Wilson’s Bid Illustrates State GOP’s Divisions

It earned little notice at the time, but a few weeks back Craig Powell searched his soul and decided to make his belief public: Pete Wilson, he announced, should not run for President.

Coming from a Democrat or even an independent, such thoughts would not border on heresy. But Powell, a Sacramento attorney, is the head of his county’s Republican Party. He also is the chairman of the statewide association of 58 county Republican leaders. And he serves on the state party’s board of directors.

His fellow Republican Wilson, he said, should back out of his nascent presidential campaign because it is not good for California and not good for Republicans. And far from being heresy, he says, his views are shared by his peers in officialdom.

“Overwhelmingly,” he said.

The incident captures, in sharp relief, the divisions within the California Republican Party. Pete Wilson, the dominant California politician of the last decade, has come to personify the state’s Republicans to outsiders. And so the party has been seen nationally in his image--a band of bland, managerial types whose moderate tendencies leaven their conservative ones, who tread dependably to the polls but essentially lack vinegar and fire.

In truth, however, a look at Republicans statewide finds that they are as different from their image as Wilson is from his. If under his bland countenance is a cigar-smoking Marine who exudes workaholic tenacity, then behind their perceived uniformity is the broad range of political thought, in all its messy reality.

In California, Wilson may be the titular Republican chief--but as he prepares to run for President, and as other candidates begin campaigning across the state, Wilson holds sway neither over the conservative-dominated party structure nor rank-and-file members of every conceivable stripe.

Republicans here run the gamut from coastal denizens, whose fancy cars and moderate views on social and environmental issues render them almost indistinguishable from their Democratic counterparts, to the staunch conservatives of the Central Valley, who cow frightened candidates into donning starched jeans and spanking-new boots to pledge their troth to the land. They are all over the mat; just ask them.

“I run meetings with a whip, a chair and a handgun,” said a droll Keith McCarthy, chairman of the Los Angeles County Republican Party, the state’s largest with 1.1 million members. “It’s quite a diverse group.”

Interviews and polling data show that California Republicans, while less dominated than those in other states by religious and anti-abortion forces, are undeniably moving along with the national Republican trend toward more active conservatism. The movement is particularly notable in the fast-growing areas of the state, such as the mountains in the North and the Inland Empire in the South.

That transformation can be seen in Wilson himself. The man who won the governorship in 1990 on his own kinder-and-gentler platform of education reform, preventive care for children and, of course, toughness on crime, morphed in 1994 into the scourge of illegal immigration, the foe of affirmative action, the bane of welfare recipients.

“He’s trying to sell himself as a conservative. That is testament in itself to the strength of the conservative movement in California,” said Greg Mueller, a spokesman for Republican presidential candidate Patrick J. Buchanan, who is arguably the furthest right of the active candidates.

California Republicans will be, if not on center stage next year, then at least a bit closer to the action than they have been in the past. Even if most political leaders believe that the party’s nomination will be decided before California’s March 26 primary, the nominee will have to do well here in the general election if he is to win the presidency.

That potential power is energizing. Tom Fuentes, the Orange County Republican chairman who in his own feline analogy likens his job to “herding cats,” says donations are up and volunteers are enthusiastic. He and others attribute that not to Wilson’s win in November but to the successes of national Republicans who took over Congress and now see the presidency in their grasp.

“People like to be on a winning team,” he said.

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George Gorton, the manager of Wilson’s tentative presidential campaign and his previous electoral efforts, has seen California from the ground up and takes as a given the state’s demographic diversity.

“In a very real sense, California is a microcosm of the country,” he said. “We have liberal Republicans along the coast and very conservative Republicans inland, and a big city, eastern-like, in San Francisco and a quintessential western city in Los Angeles. We have everything.”

The ideological diversity was perhaps best illustrated by the GOP’s 1992 primary for U.S. Senate, where the similarities of the three top finishers ended with their party affiliation: Sonny Bono, the erstwhile entertainer and current congressman; Northern California social liberal Tom Campbell; and the conservative darling of the Southern California airwaves, Bruce Herschensohn.

Herschensohn won, but not by much--with 38% to Campbell’s 36% and Bono’s 17%. Tellingly, though, he lost in the general election to Democrat Barbara Boxer, leaving intact Wilson’s streak of solo victories.

Wilson has never been immensely popular in California, particularly among conservatives who consider him insufficiently pure. Last year, for example, he lost one-third of the primary vote to a conservative unknown, Ron Unz.

But he has had unrelenting success when it counts.

One of only two Republicans to be elected to the state’s biggest jobs--governor or U.S. senator--since 1977, he also is the only Republican elected to either of those offices in the last nine years, a period that covers six statewide contests. The only other Republican elected to one of the biggest jobs since 1977 was George Deukmejian, who served two terms as governor before Wilson.

Wilson’s success has led to a marriage of convenience with party leaders, a union that faces its stiffest test in the upcoming presidential contest. For the first time in years, Wilson--assuming that he is still in the race--will be running against other serious contenders, giving Republicans alternatives they have rarely had.

Whatever their beliefs, most party leaders agree that there is an ideological split in the party that broadly follows Gorton’s geographic analysis. Yet while coastal Republicans have always exerted a moderating influence on the party, many GOP members now believe that the growing conservatism of suburban and inland California is exerting a strong pull.

“The surfer-who-lives-near-the-ocean Republican who goes hiking on weekends is still there and still concerned about the environment--and not as concerned about choice [on abortion] as he was because he thinks it’s safe,” said Ron Smith, a Republican political consultant.

“But what I think we’re seeing is the Republicans in the Inland Empire and that area--we’re picking up people there, and they truly are the angry white man. That I think is the biggest change in the party. More and more angry white men are joining.”

While they do not always put it in those terms, other Republicans agree that the California party’s momentum right now, as it is nationally, is with conservatives.

Where it is starting from depends on the perspective. A study of Los Angeles Times Polls found some similarities--and some striking differences--between California Republicans and their counterparts elsewhere in the country.

Two-thirds of both groups consider themselves “conservative” in their ideology--as opposed to moderate or liberal--said Los Angeles Times Poll Director John Brennan. Close to half of each group--45% of Californians and 49% of the national party--are white men.

The Californians tend to be more upscale than their national counterparts, perhaps reflecting less on the party than on the state itself.

For example, 37% of California Republicans had college degrees or postgraduate education, while only 24% of national Republicans made the same claim. Twenty-nine percent of California Republicans said they made more than $60,000 a year; only 22% of national Republicans made that much money.

California Republicans were generally older than national Republicans: more than half, 54%, were 45 and older, whereas only 43% of national Republicans were. A quarter of the state party members were 65 and older, while only 14% of national Republicans were retirement age. The California party was slightly less white, 87% compared to 92% nationally.

The most striking differences, however, came in those areas that explain part of the reason for the Republican resurgence in many areas of the country. Nationally, much of the GOP surge has been fueled by the organizing and volunteer heft of the religious right, and of the related anti-abortion movement.

Nationally, 24% of Republicans said they would consider for President only a candidate who was “strongly anti-abortion.” In California, that answer was given by 17%.

Moreover, a mere 12% of national Republicans said they would consider only a candidate who supported abortion rights, meaning that anti-abortion forces had a 12-point advantage in support. In California, 14% said they would consider only a candidate who supported abortion rights, meaning that the issue here is essentially a wash.

Nationally, 23% of the Republicans described themselves as white Christian fundamentalists, and only 12% of Californians put themselves in that group.

Not surprisingly, California Republican leaders have in recent years taken pains to avoid a full-scale battle over abortion and other issues with a strong religious bent.

“We are a party, not a church,” Los Angeles leader McCarthy said. “I’m a chairman, not a pastor. . . . The party talks about how you run a government, and it should stick with those issues.”

Powell, the Sacramento lawyer, said the statistics bear out the notion that California’s essential political culture is different than the rest of the nation’s.

“Californians are by their very nature and tradition more mobile, and they don’t have as many longstanding traditions or community connections,” he said. “California does not have the strong cultural ties to community, church, family that you see elsewhere in the nation, at least not what you see in the Bible Belt.”

Even in this state’s closest approximation of the Bible Belt--the vast Central Valley--differences arise. Tom Fife, head of the Tulare County Republican Party, said that in a meeting a month ago he encouraged members to discuss the Oklahoma City bombing. At the time, news reports were probing the existence of right-wing militias that had been largely ignored until the bombing.

“We had all facets represented,” he said, “from those who would lean more toward the militia to those who lean more toward stronger federal authority.

“The lid came off, and there was a broad range of opinion and emotion. If people think the Republican Party is made up of robots who can’t think for themselves and have the same thought process, they’re absolutely wrong.”

There are not only differences of ideology but regional emphases on issues--timber in the north, water in the Central Valley, coastal protection in the south. Still, party leaders insist that the most important issues are those that have interested Republicans for decades.

“Make no mistake, the fundamental Republican beliefs are nationwide--less government, less taxes and a strong defense,” said state party Chairman John Herrington.

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Their optimism about the future is boundless. Yet for all their hopes, Republicans in California remain a minority party. In its most recent voter registration report, the secretary of state’s office said Republicans comprise 37.3% of registered voters, only a slight increase from last fall.

Democrats represent 49.1% of registered voters, with the remainder split among several minor parties and “declined to state.”

In the past several years, frustration over their minority status has persuaded Republicans to quiet their infamous internal fighting. “Till you’re a majority party, you really ought not be tearing yourself apart,” one ranking Republican said. “It’s no fun getting into a fight when no one really wins.”

Republicans point with pride to a recent exercise in unity, the forced recall of Assemblyman Paul Horcher of Diamond Bar, who enraged party leaders when he voted for Democrat Willie Brown for Speaker.

The party organized an absentee ballot campaign and an Election Day precinct walk that drew 1,500 volunteers from across the state to Horcher’s district. Ultimately, the effort was successful, bouncing Horcher from office and ushering in a presumably more party-line Republican.

“I saw people standing in the Horcher recall room who three to four years ago weren’t talking to each other,” Herrington said. “Winning is how you measure your success. Winning is everything. . . . And people who are divisive in the party are beginning to see the importance of winning.”

As hard as it has been to still dissension in the past, however, success poses its own threats.

Already, California Republicans are seeing the first blush of generational division, which may be exacerbated by next year’s presidential primary.

Nationally, there are creaking divisions between older, more Establishment Republicans such as Kansas Sen. Bob Dole, and younger, more activist GOP members exemplified by House Speaker Newt Gingrich. And several Republican leaders say they see the same growing pains here.

“I see a little bit of an evolution as time goes by. You have generational changes, you don’t get around that,” said McCarthy, the Los Angeles GOP leader. “You see that symbolized in the presidential campaign by Bob Dole, the Republican old guard, and the vanguard that’s more proactive, Republicans such as [Texas Sen. Phil] Gramm.”

In some ways, the generational split has already been visited upon Wilson. In last year’s primary, younger Republicans were more likely to side with the unknown conservative, Unz.

And in a March, 1995, survey, the Los Angeles Times Poll found that older Republicans were more likely to support Wilson in a hypothetical race against President Clinton than were younger GOP members.

Of Republicans 45 and older, 81% sided with Wilson over Clinton. Of those younger than 45, a smaller 70% sided with Wilson and 22% said they would vote for Clinton.

Largely unanswered is the bigger question facing California Republicans--whether they can appeal both to the whites who form their backbone now, and to the burgeoning minority community they see as essential to their future.

In essence, theirs is the flip side of the problem facing Democrats, who are tussling internally over how to maintain the support of loyal minorities and not lose the whites who are increasingly turning Republican.

Republican leaders here believe that over time they can make serious inroads into groups that traditionally have been Democratic--including Latinos, who they believe are attracted by social issues, and Asians to whom they are appealing on economic grounds.

“The great determinator of California’s political future is going to be who is able to capture the allegiances of growing minority populations,” Sacramento’s Powell said.