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For West Coast commercial fishermen and seafood lovers, there is reason to cheer. Rockfish, a genus of more than 100 tasty species depleted decades ago by excessive fishing, have rebounded from extreme low numbers in the 1990s.

It's a conservation and fishery management success story that chefs, distributors and sustainable seafood advocates want the world to hear.

The rub? It's hard to communicate this success if purveyors continue to misidentify the fish, as many do.

Now, this isn't necessarily a case of retailers and chefs being shady. A big problem, says chef Rick Moonen, owner of RM Seafood in Las Vegas, is that fish go by different names in different places. Take rockfish, for example.

"On the East Coast, they call striped bass 'rockfish.' You offer them a chilipepper," Moonen says, citing the name of one rockfish species, "and call it a 'rockfish' and they'll think they're getting a striped bass."

Moonen is well known as a sustainable seafood advocate. And he's eager to tell the story of rockfish's comeback, a result of tightened fishing restrictions and a reduction in the number of commercial trawlers raking the ocean bottom in pursuit of the buggy-eyed, spiny-backed fish.

But he says many diners are only familiar with a handful of fish species, and rockfish can sound "like an animal from the Flintstones cartoon."

If the goal is to get consumers to develop a taste for these fish, Moonen suggests, you've got to market it to them in an appealing way. So for now, on his menu, rockfish are still being sold as "Pacific bass."

"That's ... the Trojan horse we use to get this fish into people's mouths," he says. That said, Moonen says he plans to transition to using real names for rockfish.

Indeed, rebranding fish species with more appealing market names is a common and accepted practice in the seafood industry. Toothfish are sold as Chilean sea bass, sablefish as black cod and slimehead as orange roughy.

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Name that fish: A wild U.S. fish being sold as "Pacific snapper." Snapper rarely occur north of Mexico, and some rockfish species are often sold as "snapper." Alastair Bland for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Alastair Bland for NPR

Name that fish: A wild U.S. fish being sold as "Pacific snapper." Snapper rarely occur north of Mexico, and some rockfish species are often sold as "snapper."

Alastair Bland for NPR

In these cases, it's not quite fraud, because consumers understand what each market name means. As Derek Figueroa, chief operating officer with Seattle Fish, a distributor in Denver, observes, "It's like asking for a Kleenex and getting some other tissue. It might not be what you asked for, but it's what you had in mind."

Not always, says Kim Warner, a senior scientist with the environmental group Oceana. She notes that rockfish is sometimes sold as snapper — but "snapper" is the name of another group of fish, which live in warm waters and are exceptionally tasty.

"What if someone who is familiar with real snapper comes to California?" asks Warner. "They'll think they're getting snapper. This absolutely confuses people."

The debate over what to call rockfish comes as American consumers are increasingly demanding accurate information about their food and where it came from. And even if they don't, correctly identifying fish on menus and in markets is the first step toward creating traceability in the often deceptive and murky fishing industry, says Sheila Bowman of the Monterey Bay Aquarium's Seafood Watch Program.

"The only way to recognize and appreciate these fish is to start calling them by their proper names," says Bowman.

Bowman says telling the story of West Coast rockfish is important, because it could inspire fishery managers elsewhere to use similar strategies to rebuild other depleted fisheries—such as the beleaguered Atlantic cod.

Oceana's Warner notes that some instances of seafood mislabeling — such as calling farmed fish "wild," or serving up a fish containing high mercury levels under an ambiguous label — are deceitful attempts to hide traits that might be seen as undesirable.

But the case of the West Coast rockfish fishery offers much to be proud of, she says — so chefs and vendors who pass rockfish off as something else are shooting themselves in the foot.

"If they're celebrating that rockfish are doing well, why call them snapper?" Warner says. "You lose the story you're trying to tell."

Bowman says that on regular strolls through the seafood markets of Cannery Row, in downtown Monterey, Calif., she sees rockfish of all colors labeled as "snapper" and "rock cod." Sometimes, chefs and vendors avoid the fishes' real names because they are a mouthful for diners — like vermillion rockfish, bocaccio rockfish, chilipepper rockfish and shortbelly rockfish. But Figueroa at Seattle Fish says he's excited to start using these exotic — and accurate — names.

And a little tableside education could quickly help consumers get over the unfamiliarity factor, adds John Rorapaugh, owner of a seafood wholesaler and distributor in Washington, D.C., called ProFish.

"I think it's more interesting to use the real names," Rorapaugh says. "If you have thornyhead rockfish on the menu, it will start a conversation."

And if consumers start asking for these mild, white fish species by name, says Bowman, it could help boost demand – and prices — for rockfish. She says that could be good for both fish and fishermen.

"If rockfish fishermen are happy and making money, other fishermen will see that [the recovery efforts used for West Coast rockfish] could work in other places," Bowman says. "But if fishermen are just getting a couple of bucks a pound for these fish, then the effort we made to bring this fishery back won't be worth it."

sustainability

fishing

It took just one newspaper article to change James Robertson's life.

Last Sunday, the Detroit Free Press ran a front page story about the 56-year-old factory worker. It said every weekday for a decade, Robertson has left his house and walked more than 20 miles to and from his job in suburban Detroit. Robertson's car had broken down years before and so he made a long and lonely commute on foot in every kind of weather.

Those tough days appear to be over. The newspaper article on Robertson's plight generated a huge outpouring of help and donations from people across the country. An online GoFundMe account, set up by a Wayne State university student, has brought in more than $300,000. Today, Roberston is due to pick up a new Ford Taurus, a gift from a local car dealership.

But all this kindness and generosity worries Blake Pollack, a vice president of wealth management with UBS in the Detroit area. Pollack tells NPR he wants to make sure people don't take advantage of Robertson and his new found wealth.

Pollack was instrumental in bringing Robertson's situation to the newspaper's attention. He says he began offering the factory worker a lift about a year and a half ago - just every once in awhile when he happened to see him walking to work. The two men talked a lot, and Pollack learned more about him. He says what struck him about Robertson was he always "100% positive", he didn't think walking for hours to and from work was a big deal.

Pollack says he's excited that Robertson is getting what he calls well deserved recognition, but he's also very concerned about his safety. He says he lives in "a horrible area" of town. He fears "there is a stupid person who will see James and think he has the $300,000 in his pocket."

Robertson's story has sparked much discussion on the internet. Most people find his story inspirational, and admire his discipline and will power to walk every day to and from a job that pays $10.55 an hour. Others have responded negatively, and question the veracity of Robertson's story.

Pollack has talked with the local police and the Mayor's office about providing Robertson with security. Pollack says Robertson's employer - Schain Mold & Engineering in Rochester Hills - is also concerned about his safety. He's also organizing a team of community leaders, lawyers, accountants and investment specialists, to help advise Robertson on how to handle his money.

One of Robertson's new costs will be car insurance. Detroit has some of the highest insurance costs in the country. Pollack says they quotes from insurance companies for a 2015 Ford Taurus. They come in at $933 a month.

Economy

Detroit

The American-born actress, now known for her roles in Orange is the New Black and Jane the Virgin, was 14-years-old when her parents and older brother were deported to Colombia. She remembers coming home from school to find her dad's car in the driveway, dinner on the stove, but the house empty. "At first, I did break down and cry," she says. She went to visit her parents in jail, and they gave her the option to travel to Colombia with them. Guerrero felt that she had to stay here in the U.S. "I have to finish my studies, and I have to work really hard, and try to get my family back together," she thought.

Guerrero admits that she lived "in the shadows" for years. "I could have disappeared and nobody would've known anything," she as. But as her career picked up, she felt she had to speak out. In November, she wrote an op-ed in the Los Angeles Times. "I was so scared," she remembers. "I want to be viewed like a serious actress, and I'm afraid that people are just going to see me as the poor little girl whose parents were deported when she was 14." The piece sparked some criticism, but also earned strong support from families who had been through the same thing. "That made it all worth it," she says.

Interview Highlights

On why Guerrero decided to share her story

Once I started advancing in my career, I stopped wanting to hide from my reality. And it was really difficult when people would ask me where I've come from, what my roots were, and what my childhood was like without avoiding the question, or being vague, or even lying. That's how embarrassed I felt, or afraid to share my story. I didn't think that people would understand. But as I'm coming into my own, I'm feeling I don't want to hide anymore.

On why she didn't go to Colombia with her parents

That was a lot of the response from the letter — angry people — "why didn't she just go back with her parents?" Well, it wasn't that easy. Our financial situation wasn't stable. Anybody who lives in Colombia knows that if you don't have any money — I tell you what — you don't have many options.

Her response to people who say 'But your parents broke the law'

The fact of the matter is that my parents were here and stayed, and tried to amend their situation. And because there wasn't really a way to do things — I suppose — clearly, this is what happened.

Has Guerrero's family situation informed her work as an artist?

Absolutely. I feel like you can't really be truthful as an artist, and empathize with the human experience unless you know your truth, and you're not living a lie. So I'm learning through it, and it's making me a better person, and it's making me a better artist, I think.

And Diane and I will head to Miami later this month to hear more about how immigration is shaping the American story. I'll be hosting an event there, in partnership with member station WLRN.

Share your immigrant story with us by sending an email to nprcrowdsource@npr.org.

jane the virgin

orange is the new black

Immigration

"Kids are inundated with so many advertisements of things that they 'should' have," de la Pea says. "And they develop this idea of like I want, I want, I want. ... I felt like the grandmother was such a great vehicle for: But you have, you have, you have."

Robinson identified with that sentiment, but says his grandmother was a little less "polite and gentle" in her efforts to help him recognize the blessings in front of him. "It was like a sandwich," he says. "The bread was sort of like the discipline, and the meat and the vegetables were kind of like the love, so it was balanced."

De le Pea grew up in a working class neighborhood, just outside of San Diego near the U.S.-Mexico border. "My big takeaway from my childhood was: I saw my dad get up every day 5:00 o'clock in the morning. ... I saw my mom hustle, do every different job she could to provide for us. We never had quite enough, but we made it work. And I think my goal with everything I write ... is to kind of show the grace and dignity on the 'wrong side of the tracks.' "

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Nana gave everyone a great big smile and a "good afternoon." She made sure CJ did the same. Christian Robinson/Courtesy of Penguin Random House Publishing hide caption

itoggle caption Christian Robinson/Courtesy of Penguin Random House Publishing

Nana gave everyone a great big smile and a "good afternoon." She made sure CJ did the same.

Christian Robinson/Courtesy of Penguin Random House Publishing

De le Pea says this book features characters from diverse backgrounds but it isn't a book about diversity. "That's very important to me," he says. "I don't think every book has to be about the Underground Railroad for it to be an African-American title."

Robinson says that, coming from the perspective of an illustrator, the essential element is fun. He's found that in books that focus explicitly on diversity, "there tends to be an element of heaviness — maybe because the history is heavy and serious."

Robinson hopes that playful, fun stories featuring a diverse cast of characters will reach wider audiences. He and de la Pea designed Last Stop on Market Street to be a book that would speak to all kids. "This is a book that features an African-American boy and his African-American grandmother," de la Pea says. "I think sometimes in the past those books were set aside for kids of color. I really, really hope that everybody reads this. I hope suburban white children are read this book as well."

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