THE SWITCHand functionally take the place
of the aging peakers, ultimately
charging up with renewable en-
ergy from the grid and then
dispatching it on the high-
demand days. “The goal is to be
able to maintain the same level
of reliability that we have cur-
rently but with a lower level of
emissions,” says Clint Plummer,
Ravens wood’s newly installed
CEO. A former offshore wind
executive, Plummer came on
board in early 2020 with a man-
date to redefine the high-profile
plant as a paradigm of clean
power, a key (and highly visi-
ble) node in the Empire State’s
bold climate efforts. Legislation
may have forced Ravens wood’s
hand, but the generating station
is leaning into its green transfor-
mation. (And LS Power expects
the profits to follow.)
Ravens wood is not alone. Slowly but surely—
like a supertanker being turned—giant batter-
ies that leverage renewable power and redress
long-standing environmental injustices are re-
placing aging, dirty, expensive-to-operate gas
plants across the US. This summer, LS Power
activated a 230-megawatt battery system near
San Diego, adding it to a portfolio that already
included a 40-megawatt unit nearby, making LS
Power the largest grid storage operator in the
country. But not for long. Its competitors have
even bigger projects in the works, including a
400-megawatt system near Monterey Bay, Cali-
fornia, and a 409-megawatt installation in Flor-
ida, adjacent to a 74.5-megawatt solar farm.
Targeting peakers, often the dirtiest gas plants
on the grid, gets at the low-hanging fruit; profit-
driven power companies can check them off
even as lithium- ion, the technology of today,
remains relatively costly to implement.
What comes next for the grid will be harder. En-
ergy providers will need to replace not merely the
hares but also the tortoises, the large fossil- fueled
plants that still supply around 60 percent of our
electricity. Given that the greatest need for power
will always be in places with the highest concen-
trations of people, and given that the facilities that
exist in those areas are unjustly located in the most
vulnerable communities, how can urban operators
like Ravens wood achieve a low-carbon—and low–
The nation’s largest public housing
project, Queensbridge, sits kitty- corner
to the Ravenswood power plant.nitrogen oxide—future? Plummer intends to find out. “Our hope is
that we can create a globally significant example of how to make this
transition happen at a very practical, roll-up-your-sleeves, hands-in-
the-mud, turning-wrenches perspective,” he says.RAVENS WOOD GENERATING STATION IS A THREE-
block-long, approximately 27-acre rectangle hemmed in by a red-brick
wall topped with razor wire. Shreds of snared plastic bags fleck the
fence. Beside the entrance flies the company flag, a red R in the cen-
ter of a black power-on circle laid against a white field stained gray by
soot. Along with the Queensbridge Houses, the neighborhood holds
a mix of taxi dealerships, ambulance repair shops, and old-fashioned
lunch counters. A collision shop specializing in Teslas overflows with
gleaming battery-propelled metal bodies that spill out across the bro-
ken sidewalk. On Ravens wood’s western flank, along the East River,
barges arrive with their cargoes of fossil fuels, while even more comes
in via pipeline, all stored in tall cylindrical tanks until it gets burned to
charge up our laptops and keep our ice cream cold.