Filner Career Falls Into Place : It Was School Board, Then City Council; Now He’s Shoo-In for Congress

It was 1983 in a Mission Valley restaurant, and the question put to then-San Diego school board member Bob Filner was where he saw his political career going over the next decade.

“I guess if I could write the script, it would be a couple terms on City Council, then maybe a chance to go to Washington--that’s always interested me,” Filner replied.

“But today, that looks like a long shot. It depends on some things beyond my control. In politics, your own future is affected by what other people do. It’s like a puzzle, and right now, it’s hard to see how all the pieces would come together.”

Nine years later, after a series of political breaks--some of his own making, some caused by other officeholders’ legal and electoral misfortunes--Filner is poised to slip the last piece of that puzzle into place.

After staging an impressive come-from-behind victory in June’s 50th Congressional District Democratic primary, Filner is a prohibitive favorite in this fall’s general election in the heavily Democratic district.

Although he faces Republican Tony Valencia and two minor-party candidates in November, Filner already is viewed as a virtual congressman-elect by virtue of the Democrats’ daunting 51%-35% voter registration advantage in the newly drawn southern San Diego County district. His top aides, in fact, typically talk of “when,” not if, Filner goes to Congress, treating the Nov. 3 contest as a formality.

Doing his best to guard against overconfidence, the 49-year-old Filner seems a bit dazed--and dazzled--by the realization that his long-coveted political prize is so close at hand.

“I still am almost amazed--it doesn’t seem real that I have a chance to do this,” Filner said while touring his district by car last week. “Congress was something I thought about for a long time. But I never thought it would be practical.”

Indeed, Filner’s script for reaching Congress has undergone several major rewrites during the past decade, beginning shortly after the 1983 Mission Valley conversation when he narrowly lost his first race for the City Council.

Having given up his school board seat to run for the council, Filner suddenly found himself on the political sidelines, and it would be four years before he got another chance to get back in the game.

Filner’s political comeback, like his climb toward Congress, began with another elected official’s woes. In 1987, Filner won a tumultuous nine-candidate race precipitated by Councilman Uvaldo Martinez’s resignation after pleading guilty to felony charges stemming from his misuse of a city-issued credit card for personal expenses.

Three years later, Democratic Rep. Jim Bates, who was widely regarded within political circles as having a lifetime lock on the U.S. House seat in his lopsided Democratic district, was upset by Randall (Duke) Cunningham after being reprimanded by the House Ethics Committee over sexual harassment charges.

Bates’ loss, combined with Filner’s own landslide reelection last fall in a Latino-majority council district and Cunningham’s recent shift to a new heavily GOP district, left only one open spot in Filner’s political puzzle--one that he took a major stride toward filling with his uphill 50th District primary victory.

“For a lot of reasons, I never thought I’d be in this position--especially after losing in ‘83,” Filner explained. “If Uvaldo Martinez had not resigned, I probably wouldn’t have been able to run for (the City Council). Plus, Bates looked like he was in Congress forever, and he probably would have been if he didn’t make mistakes. Then, I was given a (council) district that people thought would do me in, but I was able to handily be reelected. It’s almost a series of accidents that weren’t planned.”

That analysis is equally applicable to Filner’s personal and professional life, because the path that led him to this fall’s congressional race began in a Mississippi jail in the early 1960s.

For it was there that Filner, arrested along with other “Freedom Riders” who challenged racial segregation laws, realized that the engineering career that he had mapped out for himself was too narrow for someone who, by his own description, “has always pretty much done things full throttle (and is) never comfortable just standing on the sidelines.”

His involvement in the civil rights movement, combined with a second pivotal event--working as a legislative aide to the late Sen. Hubert H. Humphrey (D-Minn.) in the mid-1970s--dramatically altered Filner’s career plans, drawing him first to teaching and later, to politics.

“The first event showed me that people could change things, and the experience with Humphrey reinforced that by exposing me to a lot of the practical political skills needed to make those changes,” Filner said.

A Pittsburgh native raised in New York City, Filner was one of the hundreds of college students who traveled to the South in the summer of 1961 to push for abolition of legal separation of the races.

In Jackson, Miss., Filner was arrested for being part of an integrated group in a bus station waiting room--a violation of a law requiring blacks and whites to wait in different rooms. He was convicted and, pending an appeal, spent about two months in city and county jails and state prison.

The U.S. Supreme Court overturned Filner’s and other activists’ convictions and, in the process, struck down the racial segregation laws. That legal victory provided the foundation for Filner’s abiding faith that personal commitment can change society--a guiding tenet in his political career.

“My eternal optimism comes from that civil rights experience,” said Filner, the elder of two sons of an international metals and currency broker. “Against incredible odds, we changed the course of American history. That made me realize that, whatever the obstacles and problems, people working together can change things.

“I got on the school board to try to change things. I got on the council to try to change things. And, even in a place like the House of Representatives, which has so many competing agendas and difficulties with a large number of people, I think there’s the potential to make a difference.”

After graduating in 1970 from Cornell University with a doctorate in the history of science, Filner began teaching at San Diego State University. Five years later, feeling he “needed a break,” he won a scholarship under which he spent a year in Washington working for Humphrey and two congressmen who later became mayors--Don Fraser of Minneapolis and Andrew Young of Atlanta.

Impressed with the senator’s seemingly indefatigable nature, Filner sought to emulate Humphrey’s work habits by “imposing that pace on my own life.” Now known for his 16-hour days and workaholic habits, Filner “simply wears down his opposition” sometimes, former schools Supt. Tom Goodman said.

“When he gets on something, he doesn’t let go,” added Councilman Ron Roberts, who has clashed with Filner on a number of high-profile issues at City Hall. “He definitely makes you work a lot harder if you’re on the other side.”

After returning to San Diego State, Filner, a history professor, became involved in faculty politics and, in the late 1970s, became entangled in city school issues when school administrators, citing declining enrollments, targeted about two dozen schools for possible closure, including the elementary school then attended by Filner’s son and daughter.

Filner emerged as a leading critic of the plan and organized a citywide committee of parents representing the schools facing closure. He also became a fixture at the weekly school board meetings, where what he perceived as the “contemptuous treatment” he received led him to challenge board member Dorothea Edmiston in 1979. In an election in which nearly 125,000 ballots were cast, Filner upset the incumbent by about 1,000 votes.

During his four years on the school board, including one year as its president, Filner’s persistent and often vitriolic criticism of school policies led to development of a mandatory homework policy, tougher graduation requirements, stricter discipline and attendance regulations and a streamlining of the district’s administration.

As board president, Filner also engineered a buyout of Goodman’s contract--the two often clashed over what Goodman saw as Filner’s interference in administrative matters--and helped hire current Supt. Tom Payzant.

With even his detractors expressing grudging admiration for his record, Filner was criticized primarily for his abrasive demeanor and what former board member Phil Halfaker described as a “complaint-of-the-week style.” Similar charges were later heard at City Hall, never more so than when Filner served as a leader of the so-called “Gang of Five”--a moderate bloc that dominated the council during a particularly contentious period from 1989-91.

“In large part, being confrontational is an expression of weakness,” Filner said. “If you don’t have the votes, you have to make your points in other ways. That’s especially true in a district like mine, which is in need of so much aggressive help in terms of services, health care, jobs and housing. But I think I’ve mellowed and found ways to work better with people . . . that allow me to be effective without always screaming.”

In 1983, Filner, hoping to move up the political ladder, gave up his school board seat to challenge appointed 3rd District Councilwoman Gloria McColl. Though he defeated McColl in the district primary, Filner lost in the citywide runoff then used in council elections as leading Republicans and business leaders, hearing of his liberal Democratic philosophy, coalesced behind McColl.

“That was a very painful period, and I probably was in a more depressed state than I understood at the time,” Filner said. “I not only lost an election but also left office at the same time. It was a humbling experience that showed that life is not just a string of victories. But, like Jim Bates said, sometimes you learn more from losing than winning. I think I learned more about myself and how to deal with adversity because of that.”

Filner re-entered the political world in 1984 by taking a one-year leave from San Diego State to join Bates’ congressional staff. But, having been an officeholder himself, he chafed at being an underling and eagerly waited for another chance to step back into the spotlight himself--an opportunity that presented itself in 1987 in the aftermath of Martinez’s credit card scandal.

During his council tenure, Filner has blended a liberal stance on social issues such as jobs, housing and the environment with a consistent push for tougher anti-crime programs and increases in police staffing.

Filner points to his leadership in creating “drug-free zones” near schools that result in stricter penalties for drug convictions, launching an aggressive anti-graffiti campaign, pushing for low-income housing, establishing job development programs and helping to resolve the longstanding problem of Tijuana sewage spills fouling San Diego beaches.

Many of the accomplishments in which Filner takes most pride, however, are smaller ones that rarely attracted headlines, such as securing funding for stop signs, street lights and landscaping in poor neighborhoods long ignored by City Hall.

“This place is like a war zone at night--gangs, helicopters, Border Patrol cars everywhere,” he said while driving through Otay. “I’ve spent some nights here, and it’s the most emotionally draining experience I’ve had. It’s my job to try to make things better for people who have to live in this situation.

“I think I’ve made progress, but you can go only so far on the City Council. The real answer is in the way the federal budget is constructed and the kind of support that programs like health care and education receive. That’s one of the reasons I decided to run for Congress.”

His hopes for attaining that goal in 1992, Filner realized, hinged heavily on his 1991 reelection campaign--a race in which he saw his political future endangered by a redistricting process that resulted in his council district gaining a Latino majority.

Many Latino leaders saw the new district lines as a long-overdue opportunity to elect a non-incumbent Latino to the council for the first time in the city’s history. Filner, though, urged voters to look at the candidates’ records, not their ethnicity--a strategy that was a resounding success, helping him to turn back challenger Andrea Skorepa by an overwhelming 70%-26% margin.

The momentum from that campaign, combined with some truculent attacks on his major congressional primary opponents--Bates and state Sen. Wadie Deddeh--helped carry Filner to a narrow June victory that is tantamount to election in the heavily Democratic 50th District.

His top priorities in Washington, Filner says, would be border issues and establishment of a national program to convert defense jobs to other industries--the latter, an extension of local efforts that he has already begun in San Diego, where the prospect of deep cuts in military spending poses a major economic challenge.

Health care, housing and education programs--topics of particular concern in the 50th District, which overlaps his council district and also includes National City and Chula Vista--would be other areas of focus, he said.

In a year in which incumbency already has proved more of a liability than an asset to many politicians, Filner insists that he is not taking Republican Valencia or his two minor-party challengers--Libertarian Barbara Hutchinson and Peace and Freedom nominee Roger Batchelder--lightly.

But with name recognition, campaign organization and funding strongly in his favor, even Filner cannot avoid occasionally displaying the infectious confidence that imbues his campaign staff.

At a recent council meeting, for example, Filner, only half-jokingly, promised to “take care of that next year” when the discussion turned to the need for increased federal funding for one program.

He also talks matter-of-factly about maintaining personal touch with his district via a toll-free number--1-800-CALL-BOB--by which constituents could reach him directly in Washington during certain hours weekly, about tentative plans to organize other incoming congressional freshmen and of other post-election details in a way that indicates the difficulty in keeping his attention focused on this side of Nov. 3 on the calendar.

Filner sees a certain irony in finding himself on Congress’ threshold as many incumbents prepare to leave--many willingly, others hastened toward their retirements by angry voters. Moreover, the lingering recession, legislative gridlock on other major issues and the House check-writing scandal have further tarnished the already blemished image of the institution that Filner hopes to join.

“People in Washington I’ve talked to are very pessimistic,” Filner said. “The system itself seems to engulf people, and there’s not a lot individuals seem to be able to do. And some wonder why I would want to go there. But I always approach these things optimistically. One thing the civil rights movement taught me is that anything’s possible.”

Pieces of the Filner Political Puzzle

1983: Filner’s game plan for reaching Congress needed to be rewritten after his loss to City Councilwoman Gloria McColl.

1987: City Councilman Uvaldo Martinez’s forced resignation set the stage for Filner’s political comeback.

1990: Democratic Rep. Jim Bates was viewed as a congressional “lifer”--until sexual harassment charges led to his defeat, creating another unanticipated opening for Filner.

1991: Given a new council district with a Latino majority, Filner was seen as a potential casualty of redistricting. Instead, his overwhelming reelection propelled him into this year’s congressional race.