Deukmejian Wonders What Harris Will Say at His Clemency Hearing : Death penalty: Governor, long a champion of capital punishment, says he has no idea what killer’s argument will be. Execution is scheduled April 3.

With his forehead creased and his voice muted as he contemplated the life or death choice awaiting him, Gov. George Deukmejian said Friday he cannot imagine, frankly, what condemned murderer Robert Alton Harris could say that might spare his life at an upcoming clemency hearing.

But Deukmejian said he will proceed with the San Quentin clemency meeting later this month because Harris deserves a final opportunity to say his piece--directly to the last person who can save him.

Throughout a long career in state government, the Republican Deukmejian has been a foremost champion of capital punishment, last used in California in 1967. He recently decided to chair a clemency hearing in response to Harris’ request, just before the scheduled April 3 execution.

What, the governor was asked Friday, could Harris, the killer of two, say when he faces the man who so long championed the death penalty?

Deukmejian sat at a hushed table with a dozen Southern California reporters. He answered slowly:

“Well, I want to allow him. (pause) Anybody who is under a sentence of death. (pause) In view of the fact that there is a law that allows a governor to grant clemency, I think the person who is under the sentence of death should be given an opportunity.

“I don’t know if there is anything he can say that hasn’t already been expressed either at the trial or during the course of the appeals that have all gone on for about 11 years now.

“But on the other hand, I think the individual should at least be given that opportunity.”

A more animated Deukmejian also stepped up his participation in the new agriculture-backed public relations campaign to try to calm fears about Medfly spraying. He said that malathion had never hurt anyone and the public will soon begin to agree “there isn’t anything to be afraid of.” He raised a new potential roadblock to advancing the date of California’s presidential primary in 1992. And, he joked about what legacy he may--or may not leave--when he retires at the end of the year, but said he will be glad when it’s over.

On pesticide spraying in urban areas, Deukmejian acknowledged that government may have taken the tolerance of Southern Californians for granted when the Mediterranean fruit fly’s latest and most stubborn outbreak began. But he said, firmly and repeatedly, there would be no turning back on the chemical war from the air.

“I realize it is not a popular thing to do. At the same time, I think that the people want public officials to do what is right. And I do feel very confident that what we are doing is in the best interest of the people of California. And we’re certainly not doing anything that is going to cause them any harm or any ill effects.”

The date of California’s presidential primary has become a political sore spot in the state Legislature. Both houses have approved the idea of changing the vote from June to March--putting California near the front of the pack rather than at the end.

Deukmejian has been ambivalent. He once opposed it, then decided he would “not stand in the way.” More recently, he grew cool again as Republicans voiced concerns over whether there would be enough time after the 1990 census to redraw new legislative and congressional districts in time for a March election.

On Friday, Deukmejian offered a new cause for concern. Under state law, initiative propositions are put to a vote at the first available state election after they qualify. If the presidential primary is held in March in conjunction with state elections, ballot propositions could be affected if one party has a contested presidential election and the other does not, he said.

Looking ahead to 1992, for instance, Republican President Bush is unlikely to have an opponent, while the Democrats could have a free-ranging fight. That could mean a distorted turnout of voters.

Again, though, Deukmejian said he would await the results of two-house legislative negotiations before reaching a final decision.

At one point during the hour-long breakfast question-and-answer session with reporters, Deukmejian seemed to acknowledge that his two terms in office may not leave a deep imprint on history.

“Governor, your legacy, if there is going to be one . . , “ a reporter began.

Breaking into a self-deprecating smile, Deukmejian stopped the question, held up his hand, thumb and forefinger a half-inch apart to signify his feelings about legacy. It was the universal sign: small, tiny.

At a different point, Deukmejian made no effort to hide his delight at his impending retirement:

“Oh, it’s been a laugh a minute lately. An earthquake one day, an oil spill the next; a little Medfly thrown in. . . . It’s nice the end is in sight.”