. . . Versus Wes Pratt, an Activist Who Likes to Talk Things Out

Like the Rev. George Stevens, Wes Pratt has spent much of his life as a civil rights activist. But a 19-year age difference--which meant that Pratt was still in high school in the 1960s while Stevens was in jail for street protests--and a marked difference in style led the two men to pursue divergent paths toward the same goal.

“I’ve experienced discrimination and wanted to eliminate it as much as anyone, but I always felt the real accomplishments came by sitting down talking with somebody instead of just yelling in the streets,” Pratt said. “I’ve been in my fair share of protests and marches. But you reach a point where, unless you just want to march for the sake of marching, you have to try to be conciliatory if you’re going to get things done.”

That understated, accommodating style is indicative of a man who went through law school and took the bar examination several times before passing it, not because he intended to practice law, but rather because he felt that the training would ultimately make him a better public official.

“I like to deal with issues from a position of strength, and that’s one thing a legal background helps you to do,” said Pratt, 36, who lives in the Skyline area of Southeast San Diego with his wife and three children ranging in age from 13 months to 16 years. “I wanted those skills, not so I could make a lot of money as a lawyer, but to apply them to public service to try to change and improve the human condition. That’s something I’m committed to doing.”

Pratt, who jokingly refers to himself as “a Californian by chance and a San Diegan by choice,” was born in Los Angeles while his mother was visiting her brother but was raised in Springfield, Mo. His parents divorced when he was in the third grade, leaving his mother with four children to raise. Pratt, the eldest, said that his mother’s $35-a-week salary as a maid, combined with welfare benefits, allowed the family to eke out a poverty-level existence. He has vivid recollections of cardboard in his tennis shoes.

“They were tough times, but also the kind of times that build character,” Pratt said.

In high school, Pratt, a husky 6-foot-3, 210-pounder, excelled in football, basketball and track, and was president of his senior class.

Pratt’s social and political activism also began in his high school years, when he was an NAACP Youth Council president and became increasingly aware of the racial injustices surrounding him. Recalling that there was “a black side of town” in Springfield and that he had only one black teacher throughout high school, Pratt said: “You didn’t have to go looking for the discrimination. It was staring you in the face every day.”

Lack of Interest

When one of his friends was killed by police in a scuffle that began with a car running a yellow light--”Sure not much to die over,” Pratt remarked--he testified at the inquest but remembers not being surprised when the white officer was acquitted.

“The total lack of interest in what really happened shocked me and is the thing that still stands out in my mind,” Pratt said. “I remember thinking, ‘It could have been me.’ That’s when I decided I wanted to try to change those social conditions, not from a confrontational standpoint, but by trying to bring people together.”

One such change came when Pratt helped persuade school administrators to include the accomplishments of blacks and other ethnic minorities in history courses and other curriculum. “It may seem like a small thing now, but it wasn’t then,” Pratt said.

A good student, Pratt received an academic scholarship to Drury College in Springfield, where he majored in political science and history, and studied theater, playing leading roles in campus productions. He also played basketball in college and was named outstanding senior for his range of community activities.

After graduating magna cum laude from Drury in 1973, Pratt began working in the Upward Bound program in Missouri, a program aimed at helping underachieving high school students. Several years later, he ran for Springfield City Council but was defeated by an incumbent.

Propelled toward law school by that loss, Pratt received a scholarship from the University of San Diego and moved here in 1976. At USD, Pratt also helped recruit and screen minority student applicants.

Aide to Chacon

When he graduated in 1979, Pratt served as administrative assistant to Assemblyman Pete Chacon (D-San Diego) for 1 1/2 years, then worked as a legal assistant in the state attorney general’s office.

That job was followed by about nine months of unemployment. “So I know what it feels like to be unemployed and have a family,” he said.

In 1982, Pratt was hired by City Councilman Leon Williams and, when Williams was elected to the county Board of Supervisors that fall, followed his mentor from City Hall to the County Administration Center, becoming his executive assistant. At the county, Pratt has had a hand in some of Williams’ legislative achievements, ranging from creation of the county’s Human Relations Commission to establishment of a veterans’ affairs office. Last summer, Pratt took a leave from Williams’ staff to campaign full time.

Praised for his grasp of issues, Pratt also has been criticized for an occasional inattention to detail. Last summer, for example, Pratt committed an embarrassing political gaffe that threatened to prematurely terminate his candidacy when he was disqualified from the 4th District race for failing to gather 200 valid signatures of registered voters on nominating petitions.

“That’s what happens when you spend your entire working life in government--you start thinking that what you don’t get done right today can always be done over again tomorrow,” one Pratt supporter said with disgust at the time. Pratt, however, challenged his disqualification in court and was reinstated on the ballot when a judge ruled that he had “substantially complied” with the signature requirement.

‘Sounds Corny’

In his spare time, Pratt lifts weights and plays basketball, and says he “jumps at every chance” to relax at home with his wife, Brenna, and three children.

“It sounds corny, but when you have kids, you do want things to be better for them,” Pratt said. “By trying to do that, you can also make things better for everyone. When I go home at night, I can sleep well because I know I’ve made a contribution. I feel that way now and I think I’d feel it even more if I get elected.

“I’ve seen how government can be a tool for progress. What the streets were in the ‘60s, government meeting rooms are in the ‘80s. Ultimately, that’s where the decisions that affect our lives are made. I’ve watched how the system works up close, behind the scenes. Now I wouldn’t mind being the one leading the charge.”