California
How California’s Solar Ironworkers Got Rid of Tiers
California’s solar power plants now rival the scale of any in the world. What stands out most is how they were built: under union contracts.
Across the United States, nearly 90 percent of solar workers had no union last year. In California, the situation was different — at least on paper. The vast majority of its solar power plants have been wrenched in place by unionized construction workers. But at first these were union jobs practically in name only, as thousands of unionized solar construction workers toiled on the underside of a two-tier system. Their wages, training, and job security lagged far behind their union siblings. Many questioned if they were members at all.
“As a probationary, pay was $15 an hour or a little less,” said Pablo Perez, a union member of the International Association of Bridge, Structural, Ornamental and Reinforcing Iron Worker (IW or Ironworkers) working on major solar plants near Fresno. “I was one of one hundred guys they brought in. When the job was over, you were done.”
Over the last few decades, many building trades leaders signed on to lower-tier contracts to get a foothold in residential and clean energy construction jobsites.
Around 2010, while other unions were still shut out of California’s growing solar power plants, the International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW) began winning contracts — but at a cost. Temporary, lower-paid “construction wiremen” would fill about two-thirds of electrical jobs. Longer-term union members and apprentices split the rest. Officers argued the repetitive nature of solar construction — often repeating the same ten tasks of wiring and setting panels, for acres — didn’t require broadly trained, highly paid electricians.
Officials in the building trades often try direct outreach to persuade project developers to hire union, pitching them on safety, quality work, and fewer delays. But local Ironworker leader Don Savory in Fresno initially found it tough to convince solar developers to hire unionized contracting companies.
“When solar started coming, there were a few of them built nonunion, paying $12 to $14 an hour,” he said. “At our package, $60 an hour [for wages and benefits], we weren’t getting traction.”
So as solar construction picked up faster, Savory proposed labor agreements that matched the IBEW’s tier ratios: five probationary Ironworkers for each fully trained “journeyworker” and apprentice.
Even compared to apprentices only two years into working iron, “probies” would get one-third less pay and nearly none of the benefits. Instead of the union hiring hall that lined up a next job for apprentices, probationary workers finished their month or two of solar work with no guarantees to stay working union. The San Joaquin Valley, surrounding Fresno, is where Ironworker solar tiers started and ended. A few fields over is where the United Farm Workers struggled under vigilante gunfire.
In 2000, Fresno’s conservative city council passed the nation’s first ban on municipal Project Labor Agreements, a common deal used to unionize public work.
Meanwhile California’s state laws started pushing utility companies to shift to renewable energy: 20 percent clean by 2017, 50 percent by 2030, and 100 percent by 2045. Those mandates became a model for twenty-seven other states, though the targets are usually less ambitious.
But California’s renewable laws lacked any explicit labor standards, let alone guaranteed union contracts.
Building trades unions made a stick out of the state’s environmental permit law. Like they had recently done to win concessions from gas power plant owners, unions threatened solar developers with lawsuits and mobilization to block permits until they signed a deal to unionize. Just as important was a big carrot: unions could train thousands of new workers in the skills needed to build solar farms fast enough, even in remote corners of the state. Their apprenticeships, hiring halls, and mentorship gave them an edge over nonunion outfits, which struggled to keep up with the demand.
As Ironworkers lined up their first few years of solar contracts, some local leaders pushed to get other unions included. Instead of competing over turf on each site, five trades agreed that stable, inclusive terms would mean steadier work all around.
By 2015, IBEW, Ironworkers, the Laborers’ International Union of North America, Northern California Millwrights, and the International Union of Operating Engineers worked out a “five-craft agreement.” Their combined pressure made union labor the standard for all but one solar plant developer in California.
Ironworker officers pledged that the solar two-tier would be temporary. Still, “the guys were hissing and booing” when Savory introduced the tiers deal at a local meeting in 2013. “I said, ‘This’ll get a foot in the door, then it’s up to you guys to make it better.’”
Unlike some other trades with appointed officers, Ironworkers elect their local leaders from the ranks. In the “rodbusters” union, a culture of rowdy local meetings and contested elections often checks those who win. On the job, the new tier drew gripes. According to one local officer, probationary workers were largely “hired off the street, or somebody’s cousin,” without the selective interviews and job experience that picked apprentices. Probies only got brief training in the field.
Contractors “just kind of threw us out there, sink or swim,” said Darrell Lewis, a former probationary-tier Ironworker. “If it wasn’t for some of the older guys, it would’ve been hard to learn on the job like we had to. The older apprentices watched out for us.”
Longtime Ironworkers complained that worksites with a majority of quick, temporary hires were undercutting the union culture of quality and safety. Savory said solar foremen — union members who coordinate and train others on site — told him the new system was creating “organized chaos, basically. It was like herding cats.”
That chaos was especially risky for probationary workers, given their limited training, weak health coverage, and the scorching conditions.
“I wasn’t used to the heat,” Lewis said. “It was summertime when I started, and it was 107 degrees out there. A few guys actually dropped off the job.” In nearby Southern California, summers are getting so hot that a few solar contractors have recently shifted to building at night. Probies who stuck around wanted a full union apprenticeship, to get pay and security to match the tough work. They often found solidarity from older members on their solar sites. “All the guys who were already in were giving us as much advice as they could about how to get into the union,” said Perez. “It’s a real brotherhood, and that’s not a word I’d use lightly.”
Perez, Lewis, and scores of other probies were accepted within a few years into the Ironworkers apprenticeship program. Nearly all have stuck with the trade, and a few have become foremen.
Member pushback and jobsite frustrations nudged union leaders to make good on their promise. In 2015, Savory proposed a new Project Labor Agreement that would replace all probationary solar Ironworkers with full members or apprentices.
Some contractors griped that they’d be on the hook for higher wages. Pointing to the chaos when untrained workers did the work, Savory’s response was simple: “‘You’ll get more done.’ And they do.”
The proposal to abolish tiers came right as other unions were locking in their sides of the five-craft agreement that would unionize the rest of solar construction work. Although the IBEW kept its lower solar tier, Ironworkers say the Laborers, Millwrights, and Operating Engineers never introduced one. Instead of a race to the bottom, the cross-trade push prodded contractors around Fresno to accept the Ironworkers’ landmark no-tiers deal: one apprentice to one journeyworker and no more probationary positions.
Major solar Ironworker locals in Southern California soon demanded the same, and contractors gave in fast. Ironworkers membership has grown 70 percent in the eight years since.
Last October, IBEW, Laborers, and Operating Engineers announced a national “three-craft agreement,” outlining the jobs each trade will claim in union solar contracts, for every state but California.
Whether and how that agreement becomes a contract — including if Ironworkers fit in — will depend first on forcing solar developers to unionize. In California, unionizing solar jobs took creative, cross-trade pressure on contractors.
But to make solar jobs as good as those before them, like Fresno’s rodbusters showed, it took solidarity on the job and democracy in the hall.
California
Neil Thwaites promoted to ‘Vice President of Global Sales & California Commercial Performance’ for Alaska Airlines and Hawaiian Airlines – Alaska Airlines, Hawaiian Airlines and Horizon Air
Thwaites will lead the strategy and execution of all sales activities for the combined Alaska Airlines and Hawaiian Airlines team. His responsibilities include growing indirect revenue on Alaska’s expanding international and domestic network, as well as expanding Atmos for Business, a new program designed for small- and medium-sized companies.
Thwaites joined Alaska Airlines in January 2022 as regional vice president in California. Since stepping into the role, Thwaites has significantly sharpened the airline’s focus and scale in key markets and communities across the state, strengthening Alaska’s position as we continue to grow in California. He will continue to be based at the company’s California offices in Burlingame. The moves take effect Dec. 13, with Thwaites also continuing to lead his current California commercial planning and performance function in addition to Global Sales.
Prior to Alaska, Thwaites worked in multiple positions within the airline industry, including a decade holding roles in London, New York, and Los Angeles for British Airways (a fellow oneworld member); most recently as ‘VP, Sales – Western USA’, where he was responsible for market development strategy and indirect revenue for both British Airways and Iberia across the western U.S.
Thwaites is originally from the United Kingdom and graduated from the University of Brighton with a double honors degree in Business Administration & Law.
California
Tiny tracker following monarch butterflies during California migration
SAN FRANCISCO (KGO) — When this monarch butterfly hits the sky it won’t be traveling alone. In fact, an energetic team of researchers will be following along with a revolutionary technology that’s already unlocking secrets that could help the entire species survive.
“I’ve described this technology as a spaceship compared to the wheel, like using a using a spaceship compared to the invention of the wheel. It’s teaching us so, so much more,” says Ray Moranz, Ph.D., a pollinator conservation specialist with the Xerces Society.
Moranz is part of a team that’s been placing tiny tracking devices on migrating monarchs. The collaboration is known as Project Monarch Science. It leverages solar powered radio tags that are so light they don’t affect the butterfly’s ability to fly. And they’re allowing researchers to track the Monarch’s movements in precise detail. With some 400 tags in place, the group already been able to get a nearly real time picture of monarch migrations east of the Rockies, with some populations experiencing dramatic twists and turns before making to wintering grounds in Mexico.
“They’re trying to go southward to Mexico. They can’t fight the winds. Instead, some of them were letting themselves be carried 50 miles north, 100 miles north, 200 miles the wrong way, which we are all extremely alarmed by and for good reason. Some of these monarchs, their migration was delayed by two or three weeks.
According to estimates, migrating monarch populations have dropped by roughly 80% or more across the country. And the situation with coastal species here in California is especially dire. Blake Barbaree is a senior scientist with Point Blue Conservation Science. He and his colleagues are tracking Northern California populations now clustered around Santa Cruz.
MORE: Monarch butterflies to be listed as a threatened species in US
“This year, there’s it’s one of the lowest, populations recorded in the winter. And the core zones have been in Santa Cruz County and up in Marin County. So we’ve undertaken an effort to understand how the monarchs are really using these different groves around Santa Cruz by tagging some in the state parks around town,” Barbaree explains.
He says being able to track individual monarchs could help identify microhabitats in the area that help them survive, ranging from backyard pollinator gardens to protected open space to forest groves.
“So we’re really getting a great insight to how reliant they are on these big trees, but also the surrounding area and people’s even backyards. And then along the way around the coast, how they’re transitioning among some of these groves. And we’re looking for some of the triggers for those movements. Right. Why are they doing this and what’s what’s driving them to do that? So those questions are still a little bit further out as we get to analyze some more some more of the data,” he believes.
And that data is getting even more precise. The tags, developed by Cellular Tracking Technologies, can be monitored from dedicated listening stations. But the company is also able to crowdsource signals detected by cellphone networks on phones with Bluetooth connectivity and location access activated. And they’ve also helped develop an app that allows volunteers, citizen scientists, and the general public to track and report Monarch locations themselves using their smartphones.
CEO Michael Lanzone says the initial response has been overwhelming.
MORE: New butterflies introduced in SF’s Presidio after species went extinct in 1940s
“We were super surprised to see 3,000 people download the monarch app. It’s like, you know, but people really love monarchs. There’s something that people just relate to,” says Lanzone who like many staffers at Cellular Tracking Technologies, has a background in wildlife ecology.
A number of groups are pushing to have the monarchs designated nationally as a threatened species. If that ultimately happens, researchers believe the tracking data could help put better protections in place.
“They’re highly vulnerable to, you know, some of the different things that that that we as humans do around using pesticides and also potentially cutting, you know, cutting down trees for various reasons. Sometimes they’re for safety and sometimes it’s, you know, for development. But so having an understanding of how we can do those things more sensibly and protect the places that they need the most,” says Point Blue’s Barbaree.
And it’s happening with the help of researchers, citizen scientists, and a technology weighing no more than a few grains of rice.
The smartphone app is called Project Monarch Science. You can download it for free and begin tracking.
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California
Poisonings from ‘death cap’ mushrooms in California prompt warning against foraging
After a string of poisonings from “death cap” mushrooms — one of them fatal — California health officials are urging residents not to eat any foraged mushrooms unless they are trained experts.
Doctors in the San Francisco Bay Area have blamed the wild mushroom, also called Amanita phalloides, for 23 poisoning cases reported to the California Poison Control System since Nov. 18, according to Dr. Craig Smollin, medical director for the system’s San Francisco division.
“All of these patients were involved with independently foraging the mushrooms from the wild,” Smollin, who is a professor of emergency medicine at the University of California, San Francisco, said at a news conference Tuesday. “They all developed symptoms within the first 24 hours, including nausea, vomiting, diarrhea and abdominal pain.”
Smollin said some of the patients were parts of cohorts that had consumed the same batch of foraged mushrooms. The largest group was about seven people, he said.
All of the patients were hospitalized, at least briefly. One died. Five remain in hospital care. One has received a liver transplant, and another is on a donation list awaiting a transplant, Smollin said. The patients are 1½ to 56 years old.
Mushroom collectors said death cap mushrooms are more prevalent in parts of California this season than in years past, which could be driving the increase in poisonings.
“Any mushroom has years that it’s prolific and years that it is not. … It’s having a very good season,” said Mike McCurdy, president of the Mycological Society of San Francisco. He added that the death cap was one of the top two species he identified during an organized group hunt for fungi last week, called a foray.
In a news release, Dr. Erica Pan, California’s state public health officer, warned that “because the death cap can easily be mistaken for edible safe mushrooms, we advise the public not to forage for wild mushrooms at all during this high-risk season.”
Dr. Cyrus Rangan, a pediatrician and medical toxicologist with the California Poison Control System, said the “blanket warning” is needed because most people do not have the expertise to identify which mushrooms are safe to eat.
Still, he said, “it’s rare to see a case series like this.”
The California Poison Control System said in a news release that some of the affected patients speak Spanish and might be relying on foraging practices honed outside the United States. Death cap mushrooms look similar to other species in the Amanita genus that are commonly eaten in Central American countries, according to Heather Hallen-Adams, the toxicology chair of the North American Mycological Association. Because death caps are not often found in that region, foragers might not realize the potential risk of lookalikes in California, she said.
Anne Pringle, a professor of mycology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, said there is a litany of poisoning cases in which people misidentify something because their experience is not relevant to a new region: “That’s a story that comes up over and over again.”
Over the past 10 years, mushroom foraging has boomed in the Bay Area and other parts of the country. At the same time, information resources about mushroom toxicity — reliable and otherwise — have proliferated, as well, including on social media, phone apps and artificial intelligence platforms. Experts said those sources should be viewed with skepticism.
Longtime mushroom hunters maintain that the practice can be done safely. McCurdy, who has collected and identified mushrooms since the 1970s, said he bristled at the broad discouragement of foraging.
“No, that’s ridiculous. … After an incident like this, their first instinct is to say don’t forage,” he said. “Experienced mushroom collectors won’t pay any attention to that.”
But McCurdy suggested that people seek expertise from local mycological societies, which are common in California, and think critically about the sources of information their lives may be relying on.
Pringle and McCurdy both said they have seen phone apps and social media forums misidentify mushrooms.
“I have seen AI-generated guidebooks that are dangerous,” Pringle said.
The death cap is an invasive species that originated in Europe and came to California in the 1930s, most likely with imported nursery trees. The mushroom is usually a few inches tall with white gills, a pale yellow or green cap and often a ring around the base of its stalk.
The species is found across the West Coast and the Eastern Seaboard, as well as in Florida and Texas, according to Hallen-Adams, who is also an associate professor of food science at the University of Nebraska-Lincoln.
In California, it typically grows near oak trees, though occasionally pines, too. The mushroom’s body is typically connected to tree roots and grows in a symbiotic relationship with them.
The toxin in death cap mushrooms, called amatoxin, can damage the kidneys, liver and gastrointestinal tract if it is ingested. It disrupts the transcription of genetic code and the production of proteins, which can lead to cell death.
Hallen-Adams said the U.S. Poison Centers average about 52 calls involving amatoxin each year, but “a lot of things don’t get called into poison centers — take that with a grain of salt.”
Amatoxin poisoning is not the most common type from mushrooms, but it is the most dangerous, she added: “90% of lethal poisonings worldwide are going to be amatoxin.”
It takes remarkably little to sicken a person.
“One cubic centimeter of a mushroom ingested could be a fatal dose,” Hallen-Adams said.
Symptoms of amatoxin poisoning often develop within several hours, then improve before they worsen. There is no standard set of medical interventions that doctors rely on.
“It’s a very difficult mushroom to test for,” Rangan said, and “also very difficult to treat.”
One drug that doctors have leaned on to treat some of the California patients — called silibinin — is still experimental and difficult to obtain.
“All of our silibinin comes from Europe,” Hallen-Adams said.
Death cap mushrooms have continued to grow abundantly since their introduction, and Pringle’s research has shown that the species can reproduce bisexually and unisexually — with a mate or by itself, alone — which gives it an evolutionary advantage.
“If Eve can make more of herself, she doesn’t need Adam,” Pringle said. “One of the things I’m really interested in is how you might stop the invasion, how you might cure a habitat of its death caps. And I have no solutions to offer you at the moment.”
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