Seize the Day -- From Angelides

The event at the Foshay Learning Center was billed as a momentous occasion: Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa endorsing Democratic gubernatorial candidate Phil Angelides.

But while cameras trained on Angelides’ speech, a smaller moment occurred off-screen: A 12-year-old girl standing on the stage in the hot auditorium crumpled in a faint, and Villaraigosa scooped her up in his arms and carried her outside.

The episode this week, as memorable as anything in that day’s speeches, stands as a reminder of several enduring facts of politics: It’s sometimes better to be lucky than good, it always pays to be quick on your feet and, for all the effort given to script and choreography, the surprise moment is often the most lasting.

As Villaraigosa bolted from the room, the girl slumped over his shoulder, bewildered by the sudden turn of events. Once outside, the mayor laid her on a lunch table, folded his jacket and placed it beneath her head. Angelides, meanwhile, was left standing to one side, his show stolen by Villaraigosa.

It was, some reflected later, a metaphor for the arc of these two men, both leading Democrats in California -- of Angelides’ difficulty in connecting closely to the electorate and of Villaraigosa’s extraordinary luck and seeming ability to overcome almost any obstacle with a burst of charm.

“It defines two different styles and two different people,” said Jaime Regalado, executive director of the Edmund G. “Pat” Brown Institute of Public Affairs at Cal State L.A. “You have one who comes from the ‘hood, who has been exposed to a lot of different types of suffering. That equates with a man who appears to care so well about everybody.”

The Tuesday afternoon visit to the South Los Angeles school began with a rousing welcome from the Foshay band in front of the campus -- with Villaraigosa dancing and clapping his hands to the music, and encouraging a tentative Angelides to join.

A few minutes later, the two men and San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom entered the sweltering auditorium to thunderous cheers. Villaraigosa took the lead, hugging students in the aisles and giving high-fives in front of a dozen television cameras.

On stage, with several students standing as a backdrop, Villaraigosa introduced Angelides, who was interrupted mid-speech by the seventh-grader collapsing behind him.

All heads turned in her direction. Teachers gasped. Commotion ensued around her.

Suddenly, Villaraigosa emerged from the throng with the girl draped around him, his smile replaced by a grim look as he sped for the side door 20 feet away.

It was a chivalrous, fatherly act coming from a man who has two teenage children at home, a deed that drew cheers from some students and praise from a city firefighter in the audience who checked the girl’s vital signs before Villaraigosa made his move.

“The mayor said, ‘Let’s get her up and out of here.’ What he did was perfect,” said Pat McOsker, president of United Firefighters of Los Angeles and a Villaraigosa supporter. “He was terrific.”

But the dramatic moment also made for ideal political theater, with Villaraigosa as the leading man, a role he relishes but one that at times irks civic leaders, one of whom referred to the mayor’s affection for the spotlight as “the ambulance chaser phenomenon.”

Some who witnessed the episode experienced an uneasy twinge.

“It says more about Villaraigosa’s penchant to eat someone else’s lunch,” said one person who attended the event, declining to be identified for fear of offending the popular mayor.

As Villaraigosa seized the moment, Angelides stopped talking and fell in line behind him. While the mayor tended to the student on the outdoor table, Angelides could do nothing but look on.

The moment soon passed. The girl was recovering, the school nurse was on her way and the speakers returned to the stage.

But the incident also presented supporters of Republican Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger with a tantalizing temptation to ding the Democrat.

The California Republican Party fired off a news release characterizing the fainting incident as the “defining moment” of Angelides’ “flailing political campaign,” an accusation an Angelides spokesman dismissed as a “shameful but not shocking” ploy to “play politics with a little girl’s health.”

Despite the incident, Angelides’ team believed that the day had gone off as planned. Villaraigosa had given his coveted, and long-awaited, blessing to a candidate in need of a boost. And two of California’s most visible personalities had buried old hatchets and made up in a very public way.

After they left the auditorium, Angelides and Villaraigosa appeared side by side for a news conference in the school’s second-floor library. Reporters goaded them with questions about the mayor’s late endorsement, but neither man would bite. The pair looked almost like old pals, declaring their loyalty and flashing each other adoring smiles.

duke.helfand@latimes.com