In the L.A. Supervisorial Race, Will It Be the Insider or the Outsider? : Politics: The legislative fight over building the Los Angeles prison offers clues on how Gloria Molina and Art Torres work in the same arena.

Personal chemistry determines much of politics, and the runoff election Tuesday to select the first Latino member of the Los Angeles County Board of Supervisors in the modern era offers candidates with markedly different approaches to governing. The difference between state Sen. Art Torres and Los Angeles City Councilwoman Gloria Molina surfaced clearly in the way each dealt with the Los Angeles prison controversy when they were both members of the Legislature. Their approach on that issue gives clues on how they might react in the vastly different world overseen by the five county supervisors.

Torres and Molina, then an assemblywoman, represented overlapping districts where the prison was to be built. They became its most vocal opponents in the Legislature, reflecting widespread resentment by Latino constituents who felt that East Los Angeles had more than its share of penal institutions and that Gov. George Deukmejian’s ambitious prison expansion plans would be better directed at Anglo Republican neighborhoods.

As the prison bill moved through the state Senate during the summer of 1985, Torres negotiated changes with the Deukmejian Administration and with the bill’s author, his old friend, Sen. Robert Presley (D-Riverside). By the time it passed the Senate, the bill contained provisions for greenbelts, architectural conformity with the neighborhood and requirements that employees be hired from the surrounding area--concessions never before granted to residents near a new prison.

Torres voted for the bill then, proclaiming he didn’t have the votes to stop it. He loudly reserved his right to oppose the prison during environmental proceedings that would have to occur after the legislation passed. The Senate vote was unanimous, and opponents seemed mollified by the improvements Torres had wrested in exchange for his vote. At that point, passage seemed assured.

But in the Assembly, Molina fanned the fires of opposition. Her unbending resistance helped make it a litmus-test issue in East Los Angeles Latino politics. Perhaps Torres, more a creature of Sacramento, misjudged the depth of community reaction to Deukmejian’s proposal. His carefully crafted deal unraveled, and he never again voted for the bill when it returned to the Senate. The measure failed to reach the governor’s desk that year, although legislation authorizing the prison eventually became law.

Molina’s role in stalling the prison bill can be overstated. Despite her vocal opposition, it eventually passed the Assembly, guided by the not-so-hidden hand of Assembly Speaker Willie Brown, with whom Molina was out of favor.

The moral of the story is that Torres is the coalition builder, the compromiser. Molina is the unyielding crusader, the unwavering advocate. He’s the insider. She’s the outsider. It’s an important distinction because whoever is elected could emerge as the leader of a new liberal coalition on the five-member board after a decade of conservative dominance. Democratic legislators watching the race give Torres the best chance of doing that. Even those who are his detractors in the Legislature say Torres is the more likely to forge alliances with liberals Kenneth Hahn and Ed Edelman and is even likely to have decent relations with conservatives Deane Dana and Mike Antonovich.

Torres is personable, polished, aggressive and articulate. Capable of outbursts of temper, he can also disarm his opponents with a quick joke during a tension-filled meeting. In Sacramento, he has used both his temper and his wit to achieve his legislative objectives, among them legislation dealing with toxic waste and with high-school dropouts. During 16 years in the Legislature, he’s developed formidable political skills.

By contrast, Molina’s former colleagues in the Legislature remember her as an effective spokeswoman for feminist and Latino causes, but not as a particularly effective legislator. In a Capitol where mutual favors count for a lot, she never developed the relationships that allowed her to call in her chits when she needed them. She would rather stake out a position and stick with it than settle for a portion of what she wanted--as Torres did with the prison.

Partly as a result, she didn’t leave much of a mark during four years in Sacramento. She can claim few legislative achievements, and she never advanced beyond the ranks of the back-benchers. She is remembered primarily for her opposition to the Los Angeles prison.

Of course, her tenure in Sacramento was much shorter than Torres’, and she also must be judged on her record in the City Council, where she is that body’s strongest supporter of preserving and creating housing. Several other legislators--Assemblywomen Delaine Eastin (D-Union City) and Jackie Speier (D-S. San Francisco) come to mind--did, however, write important bills early in their Sacramento tenure. And as a freshman last year, Assemblyman Ted Lempert (D-San Mateo) played key roles in ethics measures and in a landmark law designed to prevent offshore oil spills.

To say that Torres is an insider is not to say he has always been a member of the Legislature’s inner circle or has been the universally accepted champion of Latino causes. He moved from the Assembly to the Senate, in 1982, by challenging a Democratic incumbent, Sen. Alex Garcia. That move meant he was challenging the Senate leadership of David Roberti, who, by the protocol of Capitol politics, was required to come to Garcia’s defense.

Early on, Torres cast a crucial vote denying confirmation to Nancy Kirk, outgoing Gov. Edmund G. (Jerry) Brown Jr.’s nominee for general counsel of the Agricultural Labor Relations Board. Kirk was strongly backed by Cesar Chavez’s United Farm Workers Union, which had helped launch Torres’ political career. Brown left office without naming another nominee, and Deukmejian came in and picked a conservative who turned out to be anathema to the UFW. To this day, Torres is persona non grata to the union and Chavez as a result of that vote.

Neither Torres nor Molina come before the voters of the newly constructed supervisorial district with unblemished political ethics records. The day after Molina won her Democratic primary in 1982, Willie Brown gave her a $20,685 contract to study women’s issues. The contract, which expired six days before she was sworn in, appeared to be nothing more than a way for Molina to support herself at taxpayers’ expense while campaigning; that conclusion, widely held in Sacramento, was made plausible by the fact that no reports of Molina’s work were ever publicly produced. The Republicans demanded an investigation, but nothing came of the incident.

As for Torres, just last year he was fined $4,000 by the Fair Political Practices Commission, the state’s political watchdog agency. He had failed to report nearly $38,000 in 1985 campaign contributions. A series of embarrassing incidents, culminating in his second drunk-driving conviction a year ago, put at least a temporary chill on his ambitions for statewide office. At the time, he was carrying legislation aimed at taking away the driving privileges of young people convicted of drug- and alcohol-related offenses.

The race to become Los Angeles County’s first Latino supervisor in 115 years is likely to result in higher Latino registration and a new energy in Latino politics. The winner could emerge as a Latino politician of statewide or even national prominence. But the voters will also be choosing between two styles, and soon they’ll determine whether they want the insider or the outsider.