Political Babes in the Woods : Youth Becomes an Asset for a New Breed of Officeholders

Steve Napolitano, who became a city councilman last month at age 26, still lives at home with his parents in Manhattan Beach. Fidel Vargas, 23, just took over as Baldwin Park’s mayor by beating out rivals who were closer to his grandparents’ age.

And South Gate’s new councilman, 26-year-old Albert Robles, says he is still not used to having older folks all of a sudden call him “Mr. Robles.”

These twentyish politicians, as many as four decades younger than some of their colleagues, are part of a growing number of local politicos who overcome quips about their baby faces, pats on the head from senior citizens and derogatory comments from older rivals to win elected office.

Youthful enthusiasm and appearances aside, these upstart officials are as different as the areas they represent. Their campaign platforms centered on such issues as gang prevention, overdevelopment and senior citizen affairs, and their leadership styles range from conciliatory to confrontational.

Although youth started out as a liability, they say incumbent-weary voters responded to their pleas for change and their lack of connection to the political Establishment. The electorate eventually saw their age as an asset.

“In the past, council seats were used as a trophy to cap a career,” said Robles, who defeated his rivals in a bitter campaign. “You got on the council and let things take place. Not anymore. . . . My message was one of ‘Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.’ Government has to fall back in the hands of the regular people.”

Inglewood Councilman Jose Fernandez, who was elected in 1989 at age 29 over a 69-year-old retiree, said: “Many people view a council member as being 55 or 60 years old.”

But times are changing.

Fernandez ran for reelection last year with braces on his teeth--making him look even younger--and won by a landslide. He views his youth as an asset, a sign that he has the community’s future in mind.

In Manhattan Beach, Napolitano fashioned himself as a hometown reformer who grew up in the upscale beach city and planned to stay there. The message worked. He was the city’s top vote-getter last month, outpolling two incumbent politicians and five challengers. Robles and Vargas had similar success stories.

“I think I’ll be the young kid, the little boy, the whippersnapper, to a lot of people but . . . my actions will speak louder than any perceptions people have of me,” Vargas said. “As a young person, someone who plans on being here for a while, I thought it was my responsibility to step forward and say: ‘I have some views and I want to make things better.’ ”

In the case of 22-year-old Irwindale Councilman Julian Miranda, name recognition and connections also had an effect on the results. His father, also named Julian Miranda, is the city’s police chief.

Entering politics so early presents a mixed bag of offerings--youthful idealism, naivete, ambition, lack of experience--that neither guarantees success nor failure. In fact, once the campaign--and the inevitable references to youth that the opponents bring up--are over, age is usually overshadowed by such issues as zoning, budget cuts and sewer repairs.

But there are reminders nonetheless.

Vargas, a graduate of Harvard University who works as a business consultant, said senior citizens still call him--the mayor of their city--”a cute little boy.” And Napolitano’s mother, Sarah, said her son needs to get his own phone installed to handle the constituents’ calls that flood the family line.

The young officeholders do not knock their older colleagues’ ages and acknowledge freely that experience is a force to be reckoned with. But youth, they say, brings a unique idealism and energy to government that often stirs up other young people to civic involvement.

One of Robles’ projects will be cleaning up the weeds on Southern Avenue, a job he will not be delegating to city workers. Instead, Robles plans to don jeans and a T-shirt, round up young people like himself and use the cleanup as a civic morale booster.

“I think a young person can mobilize people between the ages of 18 and 26 who have left the political process or never even joined it,” said Alfonzo Salazar, 23, a lobbyist for the University of California Students’ Assn.

Bob Holmes, 45, who for years was the youngest member on the Manhattan Beach council, said: “Not everybody lives in a single-family residence with their spouse and their child. We need different perspectives in the debate.”

Holmes said Napolitano, an avid volleyball player who owns a graphic design business, “is in touch with the younger crowd. He can offer a perspective on renters and the beach that the older, more established family man might not have.”

But Holmes said there are also negatives to legislating before one has reached 30.

“The downside is you’ve got about zero business experience in your 20s,” he said. “You are on the board of directors of a major organization that has a budget of millions of dollars and hundreds of employees. I don’t care if you’re a Phi Beta Kappa, you need some real world experience.”

The personal toll of elected office can be great as well.

“It was sheer unmitigated hell,” said Mike Tryggs, who was elected to the Inglewood school board in the late 1970s at age 19 but resigned less than two years later.

Tryggs, who said his proposals became bogged down in bureaucracy, found himself too young emotionally, too unstable financially and too naive politically to handle his role properly.

In their devotion to politics, most young officeholders fall somewhere between Tryggs, who is preparing for medical school, and state Sen. Art Torres, who was elected to the state Assembly at 27 and went on to make a career in Sacramento. Some bright-eyed politicians focused their childhoods on gearing up for Election Day, whereas others just stumbled upon the job.

Vargas said he moved back to Baldwin Park after college to get some work experience before returning to graduate school. Once at home, he saw the community’s graffiti and gang problems and became frustrated with the city government’s response.

For Redondo Beach Mayor Brad Parton, who was elected at 28 and is vying for a state Assembly seat at 31, politics was more of an evolutionary thing.

His conservative political views went back to his boyhood days when, friends recalled, he had a pro-Richard M. Nixon bumper sticker on his bike and defended the Vietnam War during a sixth-grade class debate. During his mayoral campaign, he portrayed his youth as a plus and attacked his veteran rival for being tied to special interests. He is using a similar tactic in his race in the 53rd Assembly District.

Parton recommends that political newcomers not try to transform into an adult too fast.

“My advice would be to keep the ‘can-do attitude,’ ” he said. “Those who have been around a while get defeated. They believe the way things are done are the way things are done.”