L.A. MAYOR’S RACE : Politics or Dirty Pool, It’s Spy vs. Spy in Mayoral Race

On its face, the 1993 Los Angeles mayoral race is Michael Woo versus Richard Riordan. But behind the scenes it might be more appropriately called spy versus spy, intelligence versus counterintelligence (some would say stupid versus counter-stupid.)

The Riordan people say they just fired someone who was a Woo spy. The Woo people say they tried to walk precincts the other weekend, but Riordan volunteers walked ahead of them and ruined everything. They tape-record each other’s news conferences, pose as each other’s supporters and think up ways to infiltrate each other’s headquarters.

It’s politics as usual when they do it and dirty pool if the other guy does.

Woo campaign manager Garry South looked around suspiciously when asked if there were any Riordan spies in attendance at a recent Woo news conference. “I wouldn’t put it past them,” he said. (Big pause.) “I was at one of theirs this morning.”

It’s the worst-kept secret in politics. The plants try to look inconspicuous standing in the back of the crowd, tape recorder in hand. They might as well wear big sandwich boards with “Spy” written on them.

“You were asking about Woo people listening in on our press conferences? Here are two right here!” Riordan aide Annette Castro said on the steps of City Hall the other day as her boss prepared to bash Woo’s image with the assistance of three former police officers and a white low-flush toilet.

Standing there was Woo press secretary Rick Ruiz, a reporter’s notebook in his hand. Everybody knew he wasn’t a reporter.

“We analyze what he says and let people, especially reporters, know where he’s straying from the facts,” Ruiz said. “Hey, isn’t that toilet imported?”

That is the general goal--instant response. Defuse whatever a rival has said right away. Nothing wrong with that, said veteran political analyst Joe Cerrell.

“But when someone tries to participate or grandstand at someone else’s event, I consider that bush league,” he said.

In the old days, rivals used to dig through each other’s trash. Now they use computers. Riordan’s people have subscribed to City News Service, a wire service that lists a daily menu of news conferences and events.

“They use it for negative advance. That’s what they call it when you go out and dog the other candidate, and they keep doggin’ us,” said Mike Dolan, who recently left the Riordan camp to work for Woo.

Woo boldly held a news conference in front of the Original Pantry cafe, which Riordan owns, and sure enough, a bunch of Riordan “volunteers” just happened to show up and start making noise. They stole the show. The Woo people got mad.

Before it was over, the Woo campaign’s South, who is very tall, and the Riordan campaign’s Andy Vargas, who is rather short, were hollering and poking fingers into each other’s chest. South, 42, said if the 66-year-old Vargas was 20 years younger he would take him out to the alley. Vargas yelled up at him: “Don’t let that stop ya!”

Upon his return to Riordan headquarters, Vargas was greeted with several standing ovations.

Dolan, the convert, said the people who disrupt such events are not volunteers but paid organizers who get $500 a week to stir up commotion. “I oughta know. I hired them,” he said.

This cloak-and-dagger stuff is as old as politics. Still, one never knows what might explode when rival forces attempt to be clever.

Occasionally it gets embarrassing: A Barbara Boxer supporter slipped into a Bruce Herschensohn rally during last fall’s U.S. Senate race and announced to everyone that Herschensohn had visited a strip joint. A few days later, Boxer was elected.

Occasionally it gets personal: Ross Perot threatened to investigate George Bush’s children after he charged that the Bush people spied on his daughter’s wedding.

Once, it got wildly out of hand: Watergate.

Los Angeles’ mayoral hopefuls go to great lengths to prevent the other guy from doing any damage. They attempt to ensure that their man doesn’t stand next to any unfriendlies in public. “There were five Woo teen-agers at a Bullocks Wilshire press conference so I sent three of our guys to stand in front of them,” a Riordan strategist said.

They reveal their news conference plans so late that sometimes reporters have trouble finding out about them.

Riordan is no stranger to this world of intrigue. For at least three years, former Los Angeles Police Officer Phillip Burruel operated a private investigative firm out of one of the Pantry’s storage rooms. State records show that Riordan’s second wife was once an agent there. Burruel won’t talk about it. When asked why Riordan let a private eye work in his restaurant, his campaign would only say: “No comment.”

Woo’s people have a juicy explanation about the private eye’s mission. Unfortunately for them, it is completely unsubstantiated.

Clearly, both sides have gone to some lengths in this race to circulate unflattering rumors and disrupt the other’s momentum. Sometimes the dirty work takes on the aspect of street theater. Woo’s endorsement by Sen. Boxer was interrupted when a man wearing a Woo pin suddenly tore it from his shirt, stomped on it and hollered something to the effect of “Riordan is No. 1.” He was shown to the door.

“The candidate goes all prepared for something to happen and this gets him off his message,” the Riordan strategist later chortled. “Mike is very robotic. When you stop the flow, it takes him a while to get it back.”

Like the chatter that rattles the batter.

“Yeah, that’s exactly it!” the strategist said.

Now, if only this were baseball.

Snapshot: As both candidates fight for the Jewish vote, Riordan stumbled over his geography in a mayoral debate at a synagogue last week. Riordan told the audience of his compassion for Jews who emigrated from Ethiopia to Israel. “Last summer, I was able to go to Heifetz, and visit some of those families,” Riordan said. One woman from Congregation Shaarei Tefila turned to a friend and said, “Heifetz?” Apparently, Riordan was referring to Haifa, the Mediterranean port city, and not Heifetz, as in Jascha, the late violin virtuoso.