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Los Angeles Times
15-05-2025
- General
- Los Angeles Times
Nuclear reactors help power Los Angeles. Should we panic, or be grateful?
The radiation containment domes at Arizona's Palo Verde Generating Station were, truth be told, pretty boring to look at: giant mounds of concrete, snap a picture, move on. The enormous cooling towers and evaporation ponds were marginally more interesting — all that recycled water, baking in the Sonoran Desert. You know what really struck my fancy, though? The paintings on conference room walls. There were five of them, each representing one of the far-flung Southwestern cityscapes powered by Palo Verde. Two showcased Arizona: one for the Phoenix metro area — saguaro cacti and ocotillo in the foreground, freeway and skyscrapers in the background — and one for the red-rock country to the north. Another showed downtown Albuquerque. A fourth portrayed farm fields in El Paso, likely irrigated with water from the Rio Grande. Then there was an image that may have looked familiar to Southern Californians: Pacific Coast Highway, twisting through a seaside neighborhood that looks very much like Malibu before the Palisades fire. That's right: If you live in Los Angeles County, there's a good chance your computer, your phone, your refrigerator and your bedside lamp are powered, at least some of the time, by nuclear reactors. The city of L.A., Southern California Edison and a government authority composed of cities including Burbank, Glendale and Pasadena all own stakes in Palo Verde, the nation's second-largest power plant. In 2023, the most recent year for which data are available, the plant was L.A.'s single largest energy source, supplying nearly 14% of the city's electricity. The reactors supplied just over 9% of Edison's power. During a tour last month, I walked past the switchyard, a tangle of poles and wires where energy is transferred to power lines marching west and east. When all three reactors are running, the yard can transfer 'the equivalent of half of the peak [electric demand] of the state of California on its hottest day,' according to John Hernandez, vice president of site services for utility company Arizona Public Service, which runs the plant. 'So it is a massive, massive switchyard,' Hernandez said. For all the heated debate over the merits of nuclear energy as a climate change solution, the reality is it's already a climate change solution. Nuclear plants including Palo Verde generate nearly one-fifth of the nation's electricity, churning out 24/7, emissions-free power. Shutting down the nuclear fleet tomorrow would cause a giant uptick in coal and gas combustion, worsening the heat waves, wildfires and storms of the climate crisis. Phasing out the nation's 94 nuclear reactors over a period of decades, on the other hand, might be manageable — and there's a case to be made for it. Extracting uranium for use as nuclear fuel has left extensive groundwater contamination and air pollution across the Southwest, especially on tribal lands, including the Navajo Nation. 'When we talk about nuclear, thoughts often go toward spent fuel storage, or the safety of reactors themselves,' said Amber Reimondo, energy director at the Grand Canyon Trust, a nonprofit conservation group. 'But I think an often overlooked been the impacts to those who are at the beginning of the supply chain.' Reimondo participated in a panel that I moderated at Palo Verde, part of the annual conference of the Society of Environmental Journalists. She noted that the nation's only active conventional uranium mill — where uranium is leached from crushed rock — is located in Utah, just a few miles from the Ute Mountain Ute Reservation. Even during the Biden years, Reimondo said, it was tough to overcome bipartisan enthusiasm for nuclear energy and 'get folks to take seriously the impacts that [tribal] communities are feeling' from mining and milling. 'We just haven't reached a place in this country where we are listening to these folks,' she said. That dynamic has remained true during the second Trump administration. Just this week, Interior Secretary Doug Burgum said his agency would fast-track permitting for a uranium mine proposed by Anfield Energy in Utah's San Juan County, completing the environmental review — which would normally take a year — in just 14 days. Burgum and President Trump, like Biden-era officials before them, say it's unwise for the U.S. to rely on overseas suppliers for nearly all its uranium. But many environmental activists, even some who are fans of nuclear, believe running roughshod over Indigenous nations and public lands is disgraceful. And counterproductive. Victor Ibarra Jr., senior manager for nuclear energy at the nonprofit Clean Air Task Force, said rebuilding the U.S. nuclear power supply chain will require local buy-in — on the front end, where uranium is mined, and on the back end, where spent fuel is stored. Thus far, political opposition has derailed every attempt to build a permanent fuel storage site, meaning nuclear waste is piling up at power plants across the country. If there's any hope for more uranium mining and power plants, Ibarra said, it will involve a lot of conversations — conversations that lead to less pollution, and fewer mistakes like those made during the 20th century. 'I think it's really unfortunate that the nuclear industry has behaved the way it has in the past,' he said. The benefits of nuclear reactors are straightforward: They generate climate-friendly electricity around the clock, while taking up far less land than solar or wind farms. If building new nuclear plants were cheap and easy — and we could solve the lingering pollution and safety concerns — then doing so would be a climate no-brainer. If only. The only two nuclear reactors built in the U.S. in decades came online at Georgia Power's Vogtle plant in 2023 and 2024, respectively, and cost $31 billion, according to the Associated Press. That was $17 billion over budget. Meanwhile, efforts to build small modular reactors have proved more expensive than large nuclear plants. 'It would really be quite unprecedented in the history of engineering, and in the history of energy, for something that is much smaller to have a lower price per megawatt,' said Joe Romm, a senior researcher at the University of Pennsylvania's Center for Science, Sustainability and the Media. 'We try to make use of the economies of scale.' Those setbacks haven't stopped wealthy investors including billionaires Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos from bankrolling efforts to bring down the cost of small modular reactors, in hopes that mini-nuclear plants will someday join solar panels and wind turbines as crucial tools in replacing planet-warming fossil fuels. I hope they succeed. But I'm not going to spend much time worrying about it. Like I said earlier: Love it or hate it, nuclear is already a huge part of the nation's power mix, including here in L.A. We've lived with it, almost always safely, for decades — at Palo Verde, at Washington state's Centralia Generating Station, at the Diablo Canyon plant on California's Central Coast. Nuclear, for all its flaws, is hardly the apocalyptic threat to humanity that its most righteous detractors make it out to be. It's also not the One True Solution to humanity's energy woes, as many of its techno-optimist devotees claim it to be. There's a reason that solar, wind and batteries made up nearly 94% of new power capacity built in the U.S. last year: They're cheap. And although other technologies will be needed to help solar and wind phase out fossil fuels, some researchers have found that transitioning to 100% clean energy is possible even without nuclear. So what's the answer? Is nuclear power good or bad? I wish it were that simple. To the extent existing nuclear plants limit the amount of new infrastructure we need to build to replace fossil fuels: good. To the extent we're unable to eliminate pollution from uranium mining: bad. To the extent small reactors might give us another tool to complement solar and wind, alongside stuff like advanced geothermal — good, although we probably shouldn't spend too much more taxpayer money on it yet. Sorry not to offer up more enthusiasm, or more outrage. The climate crisis is a big, thorny problem that demands nuance and thoughtful reflection. Not every question can be answered with a snappy soundbite. Before leaving Palo Verde, I stopped by the conference room for a last look at the paintings: Arizona. New Mexico. Texas. California. It was strange to think this plant was responsible for powering so many different places. It was strange to think the uranium concealed beneath those domes could power so many different places. This is the latest edition of Boiling Point, a newsletter about climate change and the environment in the American West. Sign up here to get it in your inbox. And listen to our 'Boiling Point' podcast here. For more climate and environment news, follow @Sammy_Roth on X and @ on Bluesky.
Yahoo
10-05-2025
- Yahoo
She couldn't pay her electric bill and died. Don't blame the power company.
Let's get something straight about a heat-related death in Arizona. The ethics are pretty simple. Just about anyone would agree that we shouldn't pull the plug on an 82-year-old woman who cannot pay or otherwise manage her power bill. Not during the hot months. Not when it means depriving her of air conditioning and possibly her life. I can't imagine anyone in this state thinking that's OK. Not a state lawmaker, not a corporation commissioner, not a utility watchdog, not a utility CEO. It's a no-brainer. But that's what happened to 82-year-old Kate Korman, who was found dead in her Sun City West home May 19, 2024 – about a week after the electricity was shut off. And it happens to others. For whatever reason, Korman fell behind some $500 on her Arizona Public Service electric bill in 2024, 12 News' Joe Dana reported. For months, APS kept the power going and alerted her in several ways. 'In line with established practices and rules regulated by the (Arizona Corporation Commission), we communicated directly to this customer 10 times through email, phone, monthly bill and notifications,' an APS spokesperson told 12 News. None of that was enough to save the life of Kate Korman. And that offends our sense of social justice. 'This can't be real': He left his daughter alone in a hot car for hours. She died. | Opinion Why didn't someone get to her and insist that she get help and support? The harder question before us is who is responsible? Who is going to shoulder the burden of preventing these sorts of tragedies? Who will ensure that the elderly will survive? The state of Arizona? The Corporation Commission? The utilities? The families of the elderly? A lot of people want to blame the utilities. But why? Why is it the utilities' obligation to do wellness checks on every senior citizen or disabled person or drug addict who has failed to pay their power bill and could potentially die for that omission? The utility is in the business of generating and distributing power – one of the most important jobs in this state. We take it for granted that every time we flip a switch, the lights will go on. But what if one week they didn't? A few years ago, a team of researchers from Arizona State University, the Georgia Institute of Technology and the University of Michigan asked that question: What would happen if we had an extended blackout in the cities of Phoenix, Atlanta and Detroit during a heat wave? The projections were tough in all cities, but in Phoenix – a desert city – where we routinely endure temperatures above 100 degrees for months, the projections were catastrophic. It wouldn't just be little old ladies dying. Opinion: He died fighting for Russia. Meghan McCain blamed his US veteran parents. The city's death rate would increase by more than 700%. Some 13,250 people would die. And that just accounts for the dead. Half of the population would grow so sick that they would require hospitalization. As we all know from the COVID-19 pandemic, our hospital emergency rooms have nowhere near the capacity to deal with that kind of surge. So we're talking about a human cataclysm. Disaster. Making sure the air conditioner flips on when the thermostat says 'go' is no small feat. Utilities must plan years ahead of time to produce and deliver reliable power and thus life-preserving cool air to our homes. They must be vigilant maintaining the power infrastructure. And if one summer they drop the ball and the system collapses, we all will learn what hell is. I don't expect the utilities to be the social workers who go to thousands of customers who didn't pay their bills to ensure that they have the mental and physical capacity to save themselves. I want the utilities focused on their primary job – keeping the lights on for the larger community and saving many times more lives. The job of utilities is about to get much tougher. Not only must they plan to produce and distribute the power and maintain infrastructure, but they also must protect themselves from the growing threat of rogue actors. In 2024, the North American Electric Reliability Corp. (NERC) warned that U.S. power grids are growing more vulnerable to cyberattack. 'Geopolitical conflict, including Russia's invasion of Ukraine and the war in Gaza, have dramatically increased the number of cyber threats to North American power grids,' Reuters reported. This coincided with the Five Eyes intelligence-sharing alliance (Australia, Canada, New Zealand, the United Kingdom and the United States) warning that the Chinese government is 'infecting' critical online infrastructure by 'pre-positioning' viruses that threaten such operations as power, water, communications and transportation, Newsweek reported. As the world grows more dangerous, our utilities will need to take more and expensive measures to protect their systems. That said, I do agree with Stacey Champion, who has made it her role to raise hell about heat deaths in Arizona. It's an outrage when an elderly person dies because she couldn't pay her power bill. As noted, the ethics are easy. What are we going to do about it? Opinion alerts: Get columns from your favorite columnists + expert analysis on top issues, delivered straight to your device through the USA TODAY app. Don't have the app? Download it for free from your app store. The problem before us is a collective responsibility. Yes, the utilities have an obligation to provide a grace period so that no one suddenly finds themselves at risk of death during high temperatures. But who is responsible for the social work – the door-to-door checks to ensure that people who can't pay their power bills have other options to keep the cool air flowing? Utilities are not charities. They are businesses. It's not their job to ensure the health and safety of our most vulnerable people. That's a job for the larger community – for government and perhaps charities. We need to provide and pay for the safety net for people who cannot help themselves. So, what's our next step? Phil Boas is an editorial columnist with The Arizona Republic, where this column originally appeared. Email him at You can read diverse opinions from our USA TODAY columnists and other writers on the Opinion front page, on X, formerly Twitter, @usatodayopinion and in our Opinion newsletter. This article originally appeared on Arizona Republic: APS, SRP don't deserve blame for Arizona heat deaths. We do | Opinion
04-05-2025
- Politics
Arizona communities bank on Trump's push for coal to ensure they're not forgotten
JOSEPH CITY, Ariz. -- Brantley Baird never misses a chance to talk history, from how his great-grandmother helped settle the town of Snowflake long before Arizona was granted statehood to tales of riding to school bareback and tethering his horse outside the one-room schoolhouse. His family worked the land and raised livestock, watching the railroad come and go and cattle empires rise and fall. Then came the coal-fired power plants, built throughout northern Arizona and northwestern New Mexico to power progress in distant Western cities. The plants would play their own role in the history of the region and could wind up at the center of its uncertain future. The Cholla Power Plant stands just down the road from where Baird, 88, has been building a museum to showcase covered wagons, weathered farm implements and other remnants of frontier days. For years the plant powered the local economy, providing jobs and tax revenues for the unincorporated community of Joseph City, its schools and neighboring towns, but now the vapors from its stacks have dissipated. These days, change is in the air. Cholla is the latest in a long line of U.S. coal-fired plants to retire, shutting down in March. Arizona Public Service said it had become too costly to operate due to strict environmental regulations. The mandates were aimed at reining in coal-burning utilities, long viewed by scientists as major contributors to warming the planet. Last month, however, President Donald Trump reversed course, signing new executive orders aimed at restoring ' beautiful, clean coal ' to the forefront of U.S. energy supplies. He urged his administration to find ways to reopen Cholla and delay the planned retirements of others. As part of his push toward energy independence, Trump has pledged to tap domestic sources — coal included — to fuel a new wave of domestic manufacturing and technology, namely innovations in artificial intelligence. In the West, where the vision of far-off politicians sometimes crashes against reality, Baird and many of his neighbors were encouraged that Trump put Cholla in the spotlight, but there's some skepticism about what the utilities will do with the plants. 'As many jobs as it gives people, as much help just to our school district right here that we get out of there, we're hoping that it will come back, too,' said Baird, who used to work at the Cholla plant and has served on the Joseph City School Board. Yet, he and others wonder if it's too late for coal. Just weeks before Trump announced his plans, the U.S. Energy Information Administration projected a 65% increase in retirements of coal-fired generation in 2025 compared with last year. The largest plant on that list is the 1,800-megawatt Intermountain Power Project in Utah. It's being replaced by a plant capable of burning natural gas and hydrogen. Utilities, already looking to increase capacity, aren't sure Trump's orders will lead them back to coal. 'I think it's safe to say that those plants that are scheduled or slated to retire are probably still going to move in that direction, for a couple of reasons," said Todd Snitchler, CEO of the Electric Power Supply Association, which represents power plant owners. "One of which is it's very difficult to plan multimillion- or billion-dollar investments for environmental retrofits and other things on an executive order versus a legislative approach.' Last month, Republicans in the Arizona Legislature sent a letter to U.S. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum warning that the economic fallout from the 2019 closure of the Navajo Generating Station is still reverberating. The stacks were demolished, and the mine that supplied the plant closed. At the San Juan Generating Station in northwestern New Mexico, operations ended in 2022. Stuck in the middle are Joseph City and other communities where life revolves around a power plant. Residents hope Trump can help keep them in the energy race for another generation. From Joseph City to Springerville, they've been preparing to absorb major hits to the job market, tax rolls and school enrollment. Options are slim in Apache and Navajo counties — two of Arizona's poorest. Utility executives told Arizona regulators recently that reopening Cholla would be costly for customers and that they plan to push ahead with renewable energy. The plant's infrastructure would be preserved as a possible site for future nuclear or gas-fired power generation, and the Springerville Generating Station could be repurposed once the last units are retired in 2032. The utility that runs the coal-fired Coronado Generating Station, just 30 miles (48 kilometers) away in St. Johns, also has plans to convert to natural gas. In Springerville, the idea of spoiling the surrounding grasslands and ancient volcanic fields with 112 wind turbines — with blades standing taller than Seattle's Space Needle — provokes outrage. Banners and posters objecting to the proposal are plastered around town. 'They all know that this won't work, that we can't rely on wind and solar,' said Doug Henderson, a Springerville plant retiree who now sits on the town council. He says coal-fired generation can accommodate swings in demand, regardless of whether there's sunshine or wind. Springerville Mayor Shelly Reidhead and others are fighting to keep the wind farm from happening, saying repurposing the Springerville coal plant would mean more jobs and preserve the surrounding landscape. 'We also survive on tourism and people don't want to come here and look at that,' Reidhead said of the turbines. The Western Drug and General Store is adorned with tiny American flags tacked up outside. A sign advertises canning supplies, but locals joke that you can get anything here — from slippers to rifles. Andrea Hobson works the register and knows everyone by name. She moved to Springerville about 20 years ago from California and says it's hard to imagine the community without the power plant. 'It would be a ghost town. It really would,' she said. 'That's the heart of this town.' Springerville's leaders have lost sleep trying to figure out what industries might fill the void. At stake are about 350 jobs, dozens of contract employees and the businesses they support — from the general store and the new frozen yogurt shop to the hospital and local churches. Some workers drive an hour to the Springerville plant every day, meaning other communities also will lose out, said Randel Penrod, a former crew manager at the plant. With retirement looming, the plant has trimmed its workforce. Henderson, the Springerville town council member, fears it could take years to permit a new plant. Reidhead is more hopeful after attending meetings with members of Arizona's congressional delegation and utility executives. She thinks the Trump administration can reduce the 'red tape' and get new plants up and running. The development of artificial intelligence and its thirst for power gives the mission a sense of urgency. 'I think our politicians at a state level have realized with AI's need for the power, that if we don't get on board and get on board soon we're going to be left behind,' she said. Some energy analysts say Trump's support of coal is mostly symbolic, since utilities hold the keys. Others say diversifying energy sources is a must as the U.S. sees increases in power demand predicted for the first time in decades. 'AI may be artificial, but the electricity it needs is very real — and in some regions, coal still keeps the lights on when other sources may blink,' said Scott Segal, a partner with the Washington D.C.-based firm Bracewell LLP. He said power markets don't care about politics — just reliability, affordability and sustainability. Just outside of Joseph City, crews are building what will be one of the largest solar and battery storage projects in Arizona. The solar panels will be installed on leased private land, including Baird's sprawling ranch. While not a fan of all the dust being kicked up, Baird knows the advent of solar is just another of many changes he has seen in his lifetime — and he has no idea what the next 100 years might look like. 'Hell, who knows?' he said. 'You know, when it comes right down to it, we'll just wait and see.'
Winnipeg Free Press
04-05-2025
- Politics
- Winnipeg Free Press
Arizona communities bank on Trump's push for coal to ensure they're not forgotten
JOSEPH CITY, Ariz. (AP) — Brantley Baird never misses a chance to talk history, from how his great-grandmother helped settle the town of Snowflake long before Arizona was granted statehood to tales of riding to school bareback and tethering his horse outside the one-room schoolhouse. His family worked the land and raised livestock, watching the railroad come and go and cattle empires rise and fall. Then came the coal-fired power plants, built throughout northern Arizona and northwestern New Mexico to power progress in distant Western cities. The plants would play their own role in the history of the region and could wind up at the center of its uncertain future. The Cholla Power Plant stands just down the road from where Baird, 88, has been building a museum to showcase covered wagons, weathered farm implements and other remnants of frontier days. For years the plant powered the local economy, providing jobs and tax revenues for the unincorporated community of Joseph City, its schools and neighboring towns, but now the vapors from its stacks have dissipated. These days, change is in the air. Cholla is the latest in a long line of U.S. coal-fired plants to retire, shutting down in March. Arizona Public Service said it had become too costly to operate due to strict environmental regulations. The mandates were aimed at reining in coal-burning utilities, long viewed by scientists as major contributors to warming the planet. Last month, however, President Donald Trump reversed course, signing new executive orders aimed at restoring ' beautiful, clean coal ' to the forefront of U.S. energy supplies. He urged his administration to find ways to reopen Cholla and delay the planned retirements of others. As part of his push toward energy independence, Trump has pledged to tap domestic sources — coal included — to fuel a new wave of domestic manufacturing and technology, namely innovations in artificial intelligence. In the West, where the vision of far-off politicians sometimes crashes against reality, Baird and many of his neighbors were encouraged that Trump put Cholla in the spotlight, but there's some skepticism about what the utilities will do with the plants. 'As many jobs as it gives people, as much help just to our school district right here that we get out of there, we're hoping that it will come back, too,' said Baird, who used to work at the Cholla plant and has served on the Joseph City School Board. Yet, he and others wonder if it's too late for coal. Coal-burning plants retiring Just weeks before Trump announced his plans, the U.S. Energy Information Administration projected a 65% increase in retirements of coal-fired generation in 2025 compared with last year. The largest plant on that list is the 1,800-megawatt Intermountain Power Project in Utah. It's being replaced by a plant capable of burning natural gas and hydrogen. Utilities, already looking to increase capacity, aren't sure Trump's orders will lead them back to coal. 'I think it's safe to say that those plants that are scheduled or slated to retire are probably still going to move in that direction, for a couple of reasons,' said Todd Snitchler, CEO of the Electric Power Supply Association, which represents power plant owners. 'One of which is it's very difficult to plan multimillion- or billion-dollar investments for environmental retrofits and other things on an executive order versus a legislative approach.' Last month, Republicans in the Arizona Legislature sent a letter to U.S. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum warning that the economic fallout from the 2019 closure of the Navajo Generating Station is still reverberating. The stacks were demolished, and the mine that supplied the plant closed. At the San Juan Generating Station in northwestern New Mexico, operations ended in 2022. Stuck in the middle are Joseph City and other communities where life revolves around a power plant. Residents hope Trump can help keep them in the energy race for another generation. From Joseph City to Springerville, they've been preparing to absorb major hits to the job market, tax rolls and school enrollment. Options are slim in Apache and Navajo counties — two of Arizona's poorest. Utility executives told Arizona regulators recently that reopening Cholla would be costly for customers and that they plan to push ahead with renewable energy. The plant's infrastructure would be preserved as a possible site for future nuclear or gas-fired power generation, and the Springerville Generating Station could be repurposed once the last units are retired in 2032. The utility that runs the coal-fired Coronado Generating Station, just 30 miles (48 kilometers) away in St. Johns, also has plans to convert to natural gas. Wind resistance In Springerville, the idea of spoiling the surrounding grasslands and ancient volcanic fields with 112 wind turbines — with blades standing taller than Seattle's Space Needle — provokes outrage. Banners and posters objecting to the proposal are plastered around town. 'They all know that this won't work, that we can't rely on wind and solar,' said Doug Henderson, a Springerville plant retiree who now sits on the town council. He says coal-fired generation can accommodate swings in demand, regardless of whether there's sunshine or wind. Springerville Mayor Shelly Reidhead and others are fighting to keep the wind farm from happening, saying repurposing the Springerville coal plant would mean more jobs and preserve the surrounding landscape. 'We also survive on tourism and people don't want to come here and look at that,' Reidhead said of the turbines. The Western Drug and General Store is adorned with tiny American flags tacked up outside. A sign advertises canning supplies, but locals joke that you can get anything here — from slippers to rifles. Andrea Hobson works the register and knows everyone by name. She moved to Springerville about 20 years ago from California and says it's hard to imagine the community without the power plant. 'It would be a ghost town. It really would,' she said. 'That's the heart of this town.' Filling the economic void Springerville's leaders have lost sleep trying to figure out what industries might fill the void. At stake are about 350 jobs, dozens of contract employees and the businesses they support — from the general store and the new frozen yogurt shop to the hospital and local churches. Some workers drive an hour to the Springerville plant every day, meaning other communities also will lose out, said Randel Penrod, a former crew manager at the plant. With retirement looming, the plant has trimmed its workforce. Henderson, the Springerville town council member, fears it could take years to permit a new plant. Reidhead is more hopeful after attending meetings with members of Arizona's congressional delegation and utility executives. She thinks the Trump administration can reduce the 'red tape' and get new plants up and running. The development of artificial intelligence and its thirst for power gives the mission a sense of urgency. 'I think our politicians at a state level have realized with AI's need for the power, that if we don't get on board and get on board soon we're going to be left behind,' she said. Some energy analysts say Trump's support of coal is mostly symbolic, since utilities hold the keys. Others say diversifying energy sources is a must as the U.S. sees increases in power demand predicted for the first time in decades. 'AI may be artificial, but the electricity it needs is very real — and in some regions, coal still keeps the lights on when other sources may blink,' said Scott Segal, a partner with the Washington D.C.-based firm Bracewell LLP. He said power markets don't care about politics — just reliability, affordability and sustainability. Wednesdays A weekly look towards a post-pandemic future. Just outside of Joseph City, crews are building what will be one of the largest solar and battery storage projects in Arizona. The solar panels will be installed on leased private land, including Baird's sprawling ranch. While not a fan of all the dust being kicked up, Baird knows the advent of solar is just another of many changes he has seen in his lifetime — and he has no idea what the next 100 years might look like. 'Hell, who knows?' he said. 'You know, when it comes right down to it, we'll just wait and see.' ___ Associated Press writer Marc Levy in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, contributed to this report.
The Independent
04-05-2025
- Politics
- The Independent
Arizona communities bank on Trump's push for coal to ensure they're not forgotten
Brantley Baird never misses a chance to talk history, from how his great-grandmother helped settle the town of Snowflake long before Arizona was granted statehood to tales of riding to school bareback and tethering his horse outside the one-room schoolhouse. His family worked the land and raised livestock, watching the railroad come and go and cattle empires rise and fall. Then came the coal-fired power plants, built throughout northern Arizona and northwestern New Mexico to power progress in distant Western cities. The plants would play their own role in the history of the region and could wind up at the center of its uncertain future. The Cholla Power Plant stands just down the road from where Baird, 88, has been building a museum to showcase covered wagons, weathered farm implements and other remnants of frontier days. For years the plant powered the local economy, providing jobs and tax revenues for the unincorporated community of Joseph City, its schools and neighboring towns, but now the vapors from its stacks have dissipated. These days, change is in the air. Cholla is the latest in a long line of U.S. coal-fired plants to retire, shutting down in March. Arizona Public Service said it had become too costly to operate due to strict environmental regulations. The mandates were aimed at reining in coal-burning utilities, long viewed by scientists as major contributors to warming the planet. Last month, however, President Donald Trump reversed course, signing new executive orders aimed at restoring ' beautiful, clean coal ' to the forefront of U.S. energy supplies. He urged his administration to find ways to reopen Cholla and delay the planned retirements of others. As part of his push toward energy independence, Trump has pledged to tap domestic sources — coal included — to fuel a new wave of domestic manufacturing and technology, namely innovations in artificial intelligence. In the West, where the vision of far-off politicians sometimes crashes against reality, Baird and many of his neighbors were encouraged that Trump put Cholla in the spotlight, but there's some skepticism about what the utilities will do with the plants. 'As many jobs as it gives people, as much help just to our school district right here that we get out of there, we're hoping that it will come back, too,' said Baird, who used to work at the Cholla plant and has served on the Joseph City School Board. Yet, he and others wonder if it's too late for coal. Coal-burning plants retiring Just weeks before Trump announced his plans, the U.S. Energy Information Administration projected a 65% increase in retirements of coal-fired generation in 2025 compared with last year. The largest plant on that list is the 1,800-megawatt Intermountain Power Project in Utah. It's being replaced by a plant capable of burning natural gas and hydrogen. Utilities, already looking to increase capacity, aren't sure Trump's orders will lead them back to coal. 'I think it's safe to say that those plants that are scheduled or slated to retire are probably still going to move in that direction, for a couple of reasons," said Todd Snitchler, CEO of the Electric Power Supply Association, which represents power plant owners. " One of which is it's very difficult to plan multimillion- or billion-dollar investments for environmental retrofits and other things on an executive order versus a legislative approach.' Last month, Republicans in the Arizona Legislature sent a letter to U.S. Interior Secretary Doug Burgum warning that the economic fallout from the 2019 closure of the Navajo Generating Station is still reverberating. The stacks were demolished, and the mine that supplied the plant closed. At the San Juan Generating Station in northwestern New Mexico, operations ended in 2022. Stuck in the middle are Joseph City and other communities where life revolves around a power plant. Residents hope Trump can help keep them in the energy race for another generation. From Joseph City to Springerville, they've been preparing to absorb major hits to the job market, tax rolls and school enrollment. Options are slim in Apache and Navajo counties — two of Arizona's poorest. Utility executives told Arizona regulators recently that reopening Cholla would be costly for customers and that they plan to push ahead with renewable energy. The plant's infrastructure would be preserved as a possible site for future nuclear or gas-fired power generation, and the Springerville Generating Station could be repurposed once the last units are retired in 2032. The utility that runs the coal-fired Coronado Generating Station, just 30 miles (48 kilometers) away in St. Johns, also has plans to convert to natural gas. Wind resistance In Springerville, the idea of spoiling the surrounding grasslands and ancient volcanic fields with 112 wind turbines — with blades standing taller than Seattle's Space Needle — provokes outrage. Banners and posters objecting to the proposal are plastered around town. 'They all know that this won't work, that we can't rely on wind and solar,' said Doug Henderson, a Springerville plant retiree who now sits on the town council. He says coal-fired generation can accommodate swings in demand, regardless of whether there's sunshine or wind. Springerville Mayor Shelly Reidhead and others are fighting to keep the wind farm from happening, saying repurposing the Springerville coal plant would mean more jobs and preserve the surrounding landscape. 'We also survive on tourism and people don't want to come here and look at that,' Reidhead said of the turbines. The Western Drug and General Store is adorned with tiny American flags tacked up outside. A sign advertises canning supplies, but locals joke that you can get anything here — from slippers to rifles. Andrea Hobson works the register and knows everyone by name. She moved to Springerville about 20 years ago from California and says it's hard to imagine the community without the power plant. 'It would be a ghost town. It really would,' she said. 'That's the heart of this town.' Filling the economic void Springerville's leaders have lost sleep trying to figure out what industries might fill the void. At stake are about 350 jobs, dozens of contract employees and the businesses they support — from the general store and the new frozen yogurt shop to the hospital and local churches. Some workers drive an hour to the Springerville plant every day, meaning other communities also will lose out, said Randel Penrod, a former crew manager at the plant. With retirement looming, the plant has trimmed its workforce. Henderson, the Springerville town council member, fears it could take years to permit a new plant. Reidhead is more hopeful after attending meetings with members of Arizona's congressional delegation and utility executives. She thinks the Trump administration can reduce the 'red tape' and get new plants up and running. The development of artificial intelligence and its thirst for power gives the mission a sense of urgency. 'I think our politicians at a state level have realized with AI's need for the power, that if we don't get on board and get on board soon we're going to be left behind,' she said. Some energy analysts say Trump's support of coal is mostly symbolic, since utilities hold the keys. Others say diversifying energy sources is a must as the U.S. sees increases in power demand predicted for the first time in decades. 'AI may be artificial, but the electricity it needs is very real — and in some regions, coal still keeps the lights on when other sources may blink,' said Scott Segal, a partner with the Washington D.C.-based firm Bracewell LLP. He said power markets don't care about politics — just reliability, affordability and sustainability. Just outside of Joseph City, crews are building what will be one of the largest solar and battery storage projects in Arizona. The solar panels will be installed on leased private land, including Baird's sprawling ranch. While not a fan of all the dust being kicked up, Baird knows the advent of solar is just another of many changes he has seen in his lifetime — and he has no idea what the next 100 years might look like. 'Hell, who knows?' he said. 'You know, when it comes right down to it, we'll just wait and see.' ___ Associated Press writer Marc Levy in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, contributed to this report.
