Is Villaraigosa a True Consensus-Builder?

One morning this summer, two of California’s brightest and most successful leaders stood side by side at the rostrum in the state Assembly. One of them, Assembly Speaker Antonio R. Villaraigosa, had convened a testimonial celebration to honor San Francisco Mayor Willie Brown, perhaps his most celebrated predecessor in the speaker’s job. For Brown, the time travel was a welcome respite from a grueling reelection campaign. He beamed as friend and foe waxed nostalgic about the sepia-toned yesteryears before term limits. Villaraigosa doubtlessly was smiling on the inside, coming off as a respectful protege who was the face of the future.

It takes more than a little hubris to risk unflattering comparisons by inviting “the legend” back to the scene of his triumphs and presuming to stand beside him as an equal. But the political course that Villaraigosa has charted for himself virtually requires that such comparisons be made. When he announced a few months back that he wanted to be mayor of Los Angeles, and later when he announced he would step down as speaker next April, Villaraigosa trumpeted his skills as a consensus-builder. This experience, he contends, makes him the man who will reconnect the broken communication links in what he calls the city that doesn’t talk to itself. But how successful was he as a legislative coalition builder? How transferable are legislative skills to the infinitely more territorial world of local government? How well does he stack up against the consensus-building lions of the past?

On its face, any comparison between Villaraigosa and his more celebrated predecessors would seem unfair because of term limits. Still, he has been the most successful of the post-Brown speakers, both in terms of longevity and accomplishments for which he can claim a personal share of the credit. But being the “best since Willie” isn’t exactly the highest bar to clear, since none of the four speakers between Brown and Villaraigosa had enough time on the job to assert themselves as dynamic leaders.

Still, the one thing that unifies all modern speakers, whether they serve two or 20 years, is their ability to develop and maintain the coalition upon which all other coalitions are built: the one that elected them speaker. Though they cultivated reputations as 800-pound political gorillas, the two most powerful modern-day speakers--Brown and the late Jesse M. Unruh--spent more time dangling carrots and holding hands than they did wielding sticks. Throughout his tenure, Brown constantly kept friendly Republicans in his pocket for times when his majority was slim.

Villaraigosa was never called on to scale Brown’s legislative heights, but as an apprentice he showed some promise. Strategically positioning himself as former Speaker Cruz Bustamante’s first lieutenant, he was able to build his own constituency as part of “the team.” By the time he walked into the Democratic Caucus meeting that would choose Bustamante’s successor, he had all the votes. When his hold on the speakership faltered this past summer and fall, it was only because his mayoral ambitions made his caucus antsy. Even then, Villaraigosa had enough support to fend off a hostile takeover and will, barring some unforeseen event, pass the baton on his terms.

For some of the speaker’s predecessors, most notably Brown, maintaining the leadership coalition was an end in itself. But beyond the leadership umbrella are myriad individual coalitions, crisscrossing partisan and geographic lines, that help craft public policy. Here, Villaraigosa’s term-limited ledger has successes and failures, many of which betray strengths and weaknesses that, if anything, would be even more pronounced for a Mayor Villaraigosa.

The speaker’s coalition-building positives were evident even before he landed the Assembly’s top job. He coaxed out Republican votes for a bill allowing mothers to breast-feed their infants in public. Along with Senate GOP Caucus Chair James L. Brulte (R-Rancho Cucamonga), he got the environmental and trucking industries to agree to compromise legislation providing tax credits to trucks that clean up their diesel-burning engines. He spearheaded a similar environmental-business nexus that put a $2-billion park bond on next March’s primary ballot, the largest in California’s history. And he was the author of and prime mover behind a $9.2-billion school bond overwhelmingly approved by voters last November.

In all these successes, most notably the school bond, Villaraigosa evidenced the skills of a seasoned negotiator. Like Brown, Villaraigosa is exceptionally charming one on one, and he is able to project sincerity and passion about his public-policy priorities. As with most of the elite of his, or any other, profession, the speaker is an inexhaustible worker who sometimes wins the day merely by outlasting his opposition. Republicans with whom he’s worked say his impulse is always to drive toward the bottom line, and his liberal credentials are strong enough that lefties give him the benefit of the doubt in most situations where compromise is needed. Furthermore, he can, at times, be utterly fearless. When it became clear that Senate Democrats would block any school bond that didn’t include a relaxation of the two-thirds-vote requirement, Villaraigosa forced the Senate’s hand by cutting his own deal with then-Gov. Pete Wilson and pushing it out of his house.

Some of Villaraigosa’s qualities would be a plus in city hall. Big-city mayors spend most of their time winning friends and influencing people, and you can’t do that without an ability to sell yourself, which Villaraigosa has in abundance. A driving work ethic is also a plus, as is an ability to juggle a number of different things at once, a skill Villaraigosa shares with his predecessors. Fearlessness, on the other hand, is a more mixed blessing. It’s definitely a quality any leader must have if he or she is to survive politically. But the line between fearlessness and recklessness is an elusive one, a truth Villaraigosa has learned the hard way during his tenure as speaker.

Twice last summer, personal missions of legislative diplomacy came up embarrassingly short for Villaraigosa. Despite a virtual guarantee of success, the speaker came up one vote short of the 41 needed to pass legislation by Assemblywoman Sheila J. Kuehl (D-Santa Monica) that would outlaw discrimination against gay high-school students. Even more embarrassing was the comeuppance Villaraigosa got from moderates when he tried to push for an increase in the caps on malpractice awards for pain and suffering. Increasing these caps was a personal priority of the speaker’s, but when he presented his caucus with what he thought was a compromise, moderates balked. Among those moderates was Assemblyman Bob Hertzberg (D-L.A.), Villaraigosa’s own “first lieutenant” and the odds-on favorite to be his successor.

In each case, Villaraigosa was able to cobble together a half-a-loaf face saver by session’s end. But these setbacks speak not only to a streak of impulsiveness, but also to a critique often spoken privately about Villaraigosa from some within L.A.’s Latino community: While he builds his coalition upward and outward, the foundation is left unattended. It’s hard to imagine Unruh, Brown or even Curt Pringle, who succeeded Brian Setencich as speaker, going into a caucus meeting without knowing for certain what was in the mind of their closest political allies. When the media lights are shining, as they were on the gay-student legislation, it is risky business for a speaker to put his imprimatur on any bill unless he’s got 41 commitments, signed in blood.

Much as those in Sacramento hate to admit it, the mayor of Los Angeles gets a whole lot more media attention than an Assembly speaker. Every rash step, rookie mistake and coalition misstep would be subject to an array of analyses and second-guessing, as was Villaraigosa’s unsuccessful shuttle diplomacy in the fight over the removal of L.A. School Supt. Ruben Zacarias and his inopportune remarks crediting Mexican President Ernesto Zedillo with helping to defeat Proposition 187. Any tendency to neglect his base, moreover, would be devastating. Villaraigosa is hardly wanting for mayoral rivals already, both within and outside the Latino community.

Villaraigosa certainly deserves credit for making the most of a diminished office. He showed skill in keeping his own coalition strong enough to reassert the Assembly’s status as the legislative equal of the more experienced state Senate. He found a way to work with his crotchety Senate counterpart, President Pro Tempore John L. Burton (D-San Francisco), as well as governors of both parties. And he managed to keep the wolves at bay until he could step aside on his own terms. How this all rates in selecting a mayor is for voters in Los Angeles to decide. But by state Capitol standards, it’s not bad for a two-year speakership.*