Jerry on a Morning Moonbeam

I hadn’t seen Jerry Brown for many years, so it was gratifying last Tuesday to realize that even in the crush of reporters and well-wishers, he remembered who I was.

He looked me directly in the eye, extended his hand and said, “Hey, Art, it’s been a long time.”

We were at a Santa Monica conference of the American Assn. of Political Consultants, wherein those who get people elected to public office attempt to justify their odious and contemptible campaign tactics.

Brown was a luncheon speaker. For those who don’t recall precisely who he is, Young Jerry, as they used to call him, was governor of California from 1975 to 1982 and twice a candidate for President of the United States.

His last race was for the U.S. Senate in 1982. When he failed in that campaign, he ran screaming from the country and, according to one wry assessment, became a bagman for Mama Terry (Mother Teresa) in Calcutta.

Seven years later, the one-time seminarian and planetary politician re-entered secular politics and, suddenly 50, became chairman of California’s Democratic Party.

That was Brown’s capacity when he addressed the political consultants in an amusing but otherwise flaccid luncheon presentation.

The moment was less than thrilling. When he began the speech, he asked, “What can I say to impress you?” A voice from the audience replied in a stage whisper, “Nothing.” And nothing was what he said.

I mention his reference to me as Art for a reason.

Though I covered Brown’s campaigns for both governor and President, and spent weeks with him bouncing around the country in a VW bus, he never quite knew who I was.

I learned later that he was informed of my presence by a campaign assistant who thought my name was Art Garcia and that I worked for a Spanish-language newspaper somewhere.

Brown is the kind of guy who will do anything for a minority. I was therefore granted preferential access to him during the 1976 presidential campaign when he was at the height of his popularity and the most difficult to corner.

I figured I’d be Art Garcia for as long as it took to get what I wanted, and I continued as Garcia even during the governor’s less rewarding presidential quest in 1980.

The fact that he remembered me Tuesday as good old Art proves the man’s consistency, even when he’s wrong.

It was that consistency I wanted to address at the conference, but Brown had a plane to catch and was surrounded by fans all the way to the door, which precluded any conversation.

It was, “Talk to you later, Art,” and that was that.

I did, however, discuss the New Jerry Brown with others whose association with him goes back to the late 1960s.

They said that pretty much he was just like the Old Jerry Brown, with less hair.

All of those I spoke with preferred to remain anonymous. One said “the kid,” as he called Brown, is as ambitious as he ever was and still wants to be President.

“It’s just that he’s learned patience over the years,” the man said. “Where once he was in an extreme hurry, now he’s just in a hurry.”

Others insisted that Brown didn’t run away to sulk after losing his senatorial bid in ’82. He simply wanted a change of scenery.

“He wasn’t in a blue funk and he wasn’t depressed,” a former associate added. “He was looking to explore new interests. Now he’s back, rarin’ to go.”

One thing I did notice at the conference was that Brown seemed more easygoing than I remember him. Someone once said that a difference between Jerry and his father was that while Pat would stop to kiss babies during a campaign, Jerry would only stop to discuss issues with them.

“Sure he’s more relaxed,” someone said Tuesday. “He isn’t running for anything.”

To those, however, who insist the era of Governor Moonbeam is over, and Our Jerry is Mr. Reality today, I must point out that he still makes passing reference to “sitting on a pyramid and meditating on a morning star.”

Maybe at that, the blend of moonlight and reality has always been a part of his makeup, due to the nature of the pragmatic company he keeps.

Once, for instance, during the ’76 campaign, a fourth-grader said he was representing Brown in a mock election in school. Whereupon the governor advised the youth to be honest with the people and he’d win.

But as Brown strode off, a campaign worker leaned close to the boy and muttered, “Hit the precincts, kid.” One wonders if that isn’t what Young Jerry is doing today.

If so, old Art Garcia is bound to be there.