Likable Warrior : Assemblyman Terry Friedman Makes Friends Even Among Foes

His bill to ban job and housing discrimination against gays and lesbians had just narrowly won passage in the Assembly, and Democratic lawmaker Terry B. Friedman was hurriedly shaking hands and hugging supporters. Then he took an unusual step.

Instead of lingering to savor the exhilarating moment with his allies or racing to trumpet his hard-fought success to reporters, the West Los Angeles assemblyman walked across the aisle of the ornate Assembly chamber to congratulate the bill’s leading foe, Assemblyman Stan Statham (R-Oak Run).

“Immediately following his victory, he came over and thanked me for the quality of my remarks” during the acrimonious 90-minute debate last month, Statham recalled.

Statham, a conservative-leaning lawmaker from rural northeastern California, said such gestures are not unusual for Friedman. As a consequence, Statham said, he has developed “a tremendous admiration” for Friedman, an unabashed urban liberal.

Statham is not alone in that view. After five years in the hurly-burly of the Assembly, where the outcome of legislation can turn as much on personal relations as on partisan politics, Friedman has emerged from the shadows of the back benches with a reputation as a politically savvy yet sensitive lawmaker.

With the high-profile gay rights issue, Friedman seems to have hit his stride. In the face of intense opposition, he skillfully guided his bill through the Assembly, keeping careful count of his supporters and rounding up key business and religious backing. Friedman, whose 43rd Assembly District includes Beverly Hills and parts of Bel-Air, Brentwood and Westwood, is now shepherding the bill in the Senate, where it also is expected to pass.

Paralleling his success with the gay rights bill, he has raised his visibility by becoming chairman of the Assembly Labor and Employment Committee. That spot has cemented his ties to organized labor, a key constituency for an ambitious Democrat who has been mentioned as a potential congressional candidate.

So far, Friedman has expressed only mild interest in heading to Washington. Instead, he has his heart set on running for a job closer to home: Los Angeles city attorney.

The 41-year-old Friedman acknowledged that whenever incumbent James Kenneth Hahn steps aside, “it would be my strong expectation that I would run” for the post.

Friedman, a devout Jew, is a former lawyer with Bet Tzedek, a legal aid foundation based in the Fairfax District, and many of the issues he dealt with in that job clearly remain his passion. He said that as city attorney, he would have “the opportunity to run a large public interest law firm” to protect consumers, improve worker safety and pursue slumlords, as well as tackling such routine tasks as prosecuting drunken drivers.

Friedman’s liberal social agenda has its roots in the turbulent 1960s. He was inspired by President Kennedy’s call for social action, as well as by talks with his parents, both Los Angeles schoolteachers, about fighting for the underdog. Friedman recalls sitting at the dinner table in the family’s Eagle Rock home, discussing tumultuous scenes he had just watched on television news. He especially remembers the infamous hosing of civil rights marchers in Birmingham, Ala., in 1963, and being struck by how wrong it was.

The soft-spoken, balding, almost owlish-looking Friedman carried his interests with him to UCLA, where he became active in the Young Democrats club and the anti-war movement.

In helping organize a candlelight vigil against the Vietnam War, he met Burt Margolin, a Westside Democrat who was elected to the Assembly in 1982 and whose friendship played a role in launching Friedman’s own political career. Through Young Democrats, he also met future Los Angeles Reps. Henry A. Waxman and Howard L. Berman.

But all was not politics for Friedman. Though he is only 5-foot-6, Friedman was a basketball guard on the “B” team at Eagle Rock High. At UCLA, where his ambition outdistanced his height, he had to content himself with being an enthusiastic Bruin basketball fan.

Visitors to his Capitol office are brought face to face with Friedman’s two sides. Hanging on the walls are a photograph of Robert Kennedy and a poster for the 1968 Poor People’s Campaign. But there’s also an autographed baseball card of another Friedman hero, Dodger pitching great Sandy Koufax.

Friedman said he sees the gay rights legislation as a fulfillment of the civil rights movement’s “call for equal opportunity.” He added that representing his district, which includes heavily gay areas in West Hollywood, has made him more aware of the discrimination faced by gays and lesbians.

During the impassioned Assembly floor debate on the measure, Friedman implored his colleagues, “You don’t have to like someone . . . to believe they should be treated fairly, and that’s what AB 101 (the bill) is all about.”

The Assembly approved the bill by a 42-28 margin, just one more than the simple majority required for passage in the 80-member body.

Similar proposals have been introduced since 1978, with one of them winning legislative approval in 1984. But that bill, by then-Assemblyman Art Agnos (D-San Francisco), was vetoed by Gov. George Deukmejian. Current Gov. Pete Wilson has not taken a public position on the issue but is believed to be sympathetic to allowing the anti-discrimination bill to become law.

In advance of the Assembly vote on the measure, Friedman carried with him a dogeared card listing supporters, opponents and fence-sitters. His count proved true. In an interview before the Assembly action, Friedman predicted that his bill would draw between 41 and 44 votes.

The accuracy of his tally was no fluke, legislative observers say. Indeed, one lobbyist said Friedman has established himself in Sacramento as a legislative nose-counter and tactician whose skill is “reminiscent of Lyndon Baines Johnson at his best as (U.S.) Senate majority leader” in the 1950s.

Friedman has had plenty of help sharpening his political skills.

When former 43rd District Assemblyman Gray Davis (D-Los Angeles) decided to launch his successful campaign for state controller in 1986, it touched off an intense scramble to succeed him. But Friedman’s friendship with Margolin and his longtime ties to Berman, Waxman and other Westside politicians through his legal-aid work gave him the inside track for getting the Democratic nomination.

With the help of the Berman-Waxman political organization, Friedman easily crushed his opposition in the silk-stocking district. His maiden campaign was so easy that, for part of the summer, he closed his headquarters to visit Yosemite, Canada and the eastern United States.

He has coasted to reelection ever since, winning 60% of the vote last November.

When he first arrived in Sacramento, he was best known as Margolin’s sidekick. One legislative aide chortled that as a rookie, Friedman was viewed as “Burt’s little brother.”

But Friedman is proud of his political bloodlines. “I believe I’ve always been my own person . . . but it doesn’t bother me that people associated me with some of my political allies,” he said.

He added, “It takes some time for most people to develop their own individual image and reputation.”

Among his colleagues, Friedman is considered something of a straight arrow. A vegetarian and an avid jogger, he tends to shy away from the cocktail party circuit. And, unlike most Los Angeles lawmakers, he flies home at least once during the week to be with his wife, Elise Karl, a kindergarten teacher. The couple have no children.

Friedman initially shared a home in Sacramento with Margolin. But he now stays in a hotel when he remains in the capital overnight. Some of his colleagues privately grumble that because of flight schedules, Friedman sometimes arrives late and leaves early for Assembly floor sessions.

Although the gay rights bill has catapulted Friedman into the spotlight, he is no stranger to civil rights legislation. In the past, he has unsuccessfully pressed for a measure to prohibit the issuance or renewal of liquor licenses to private clubs that discriminate.

In the current legislative session, Friedman is pushing a wide variety of other bills--from overhauling police disciplinary procedures to outlawing the use of long boxes to package compact discs unless reusable material is used. Last year, he won Deukmejian’s signature on a sweeping corporate criminal liability law.

Not all of his colleagues have warmed to Friedman’s brand of progressive politics.

Assemblyman Gil Ferguson (R-Newport Beach) recently labeled Friedman’s bills “pure socialism.”

One Democrat privately branded him a “knee-jerk liberal” who sometimes introduces measures to cash in on hot topics. The lawmaker, who insisted that he likes Friedman, cited the compact-disc issue as one Friedman jumped on simply because the need to reduce waste has been in the news.

But others give Friedman high marks for not missing a step in debates, knowing when to pursue a vote on a bill and maintaining a disarmingly chipper demeanor.

Margolin cited the ease with which his friend puts aside political differences to chat with a legislative adversary about such nonpolitical topics as the fortunes of UCLA basketball.

As tough as Friedman may seem in a policy debate, Margolin said, “he works hard to make sure that doesn’t spill over into anything personal.”