A Speaker Raising His Voice

Antonio Villaraigosa operates at the apex of California politics’ new arc.

He has risen farther, faster than any previous politician to achieve the office of Assembly speaker, arguably the second-most important job in the state’s public life. He is a dynamic and unabashedly liberal standard-bearer for a fresh new generation of Latino leaders. He talks at least once a day, sometimes more frequently, with Gov. Gray Davis. He he has broken fund-raising records on behalf of California Democrats, and he regularly turns up at the elbow of Mayor Richard Riordan.

But when Villaraigosa sits down to guzzle a cup of coffee in a mid-Wilshire fast-food joint, the waitresses and passersby come and go without giving him so much as a glance. Here, he is more noticeable for his impeccable suit than for the power he wields over state government.

“I’m still not well known here,” he acknowledged in a recent interview. “But in conversations I’ve had, I’ll tell you, I think there’s a sense of motion. People can feel it.”

Villaraigosa doesn’t say whom he’s been talking to, but in certain circles, he’s the talk of the town. What passes for the Los Angeles political establishment--the compact community of elected officials, consultants and aides that congregates around local government and its leaders--is fascinated by Villaraigosa and by the possibility that he may join the race for mayor in 2001. The big questions: Will he run? Can he win? Is the city ready to elect its first Latino chief executive of modern times?

Villaraigosa, who got the speakership because term limits pushed out members with more experience but who now faces being forced out himself, sounds ready to try out some answers.

“My focus has to be on my job,” he said, “but I’d be [misleading] you if I said I wasn’t thinking about my future. I am.”

For better and for worse, Villaraigosa represents a clean break from much of the Los Angeles political establishment. He’s impetuous where City Atty. James K. Hahn is methodical, brash where county Supervisor Zev Yaroslavsky is cautious, pragmatic where county Supervisor Gloria Molina is unbending, unapologetically a man of the left when the rest of the pack clusters around the middle.

He’s also, in the minds of the electorate, an essentially invisible character with a nearly unpronouncable name. (It’s Vee-ya-ra-go-sah.)

A Times poll last month found Villaraigosa at the most distant margins of the public’s attention. Eight of 10 Los Angeles residents either have never heard of Villaraigosa or feel they don’t know enough to have an opinion about him; even three-fourths of Latinos are in the dark about the man who aspires to become modern Los Angeles’ first Latino mayor.

“The only thing many people know about him is his name,” said one political insider. “And they don’t think much of that.”

A Tongue Twister in English and Spanish

Villaraigosa is not a common name in any language because it’s an invention, a melding of his surname, Villar, and that of his wife, Corina Raigosa. The result is a tongue-twister as uncomfortable to pronounce in Spanish as it is in English.

Behind the name is a politician unorthodox by almost any contemporary measure. His candor and unabashed love of politics stand out in a political universe that generally favors caution and anti-politician rhetoric. In a time in which most of his colleagues reject ideology in favor of flexibility, Villaraigosa moves in the opposite direction.

He is a board member of the American Civil Liberties Union. He opposes the death penalty and wants Proposition 187, the state initiative that sought to bar illegal immigrants from receiving an array of public services and benefits, to die a quiet death. He supports organized labor--and is supported by it in turn. He’s willing to consider higher taxes, if that’s what it takes to make California’s schools great again. In speeches across the state, sometimes a dozen a day, he honors Cesar Chavez and the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., and he enthusiastically champions the idea that government can play a positive role in the lives of working people.

In short, Antonio Villaraigosa is a liberal. And, never mind that we live in an era in which pundits like to snicker about the “L-word,” Villaraigosa is not apologizing for his beliefs.

“I’m not a guy who’s always trying to score a point to move up in the polls,” he said. “That’s not who I am.”

Villaraigosa grew up tough and forcefully anti-establishment. Tattooed and in trouble early, he fathered two children with two girlfriends while he was still so young that now, at 46, he’s a grandfather. His father was absent while he was growing up. His grades were mediocre, and only the affirmative action policies of the time cleared him for admission to UCLA. (When he was honored there recently as the first UCLA alumnus to serve as Assembly speaker, Villaraigosa quipped: “Some people say I got in here through the back door. One thing is sure: I went out through the front door.”)

And then, under the tutelage of a strong mother, he turned a corner: Villaraigosa stopped focusing on what he opposed and developed an agenda and persona of his own, one that embraces educational reform and immigrant protection and blends liberal activism with a turn-of-the-millennium patriotism--a combination that may appeal even to those who do not share his politics.

Nothing illustrates that so well as a story Villaraigosa likes to tell about a dinner he attended in February.

The event took place in Mexico City during a small party at the home of one of that country’s leading business executives. Villaraigosa was among those being honored, along with the governor, a billionaire or two and the president of the University of California. At one point during the meal, communications executive Carlos Slim, the evening’s host and one of Mexico’s richest men, asked Villaraigosa to talk about the differences between Mexico and the United States.

“That’s easy,” Villaraigosa responded. “If my people had stayed here, I’d be serving you now. Instead, you’re having dinner in my honor.”

For Villaraigosa, that moment helped crystallize a fierce love of America that could bind him with more conservative voters--people who will not think much of his tough-guy past or his ACLU present.

In fact, the speaker has managed to transform his story from a rough-and-tumble narrative into an ode to America. The result is both personal and practical: It emphasizes his patriotism, and it keeps opponents from taking advantage of his past.

“I’m the son of an immigrant,” he said. “I’m a poster child for the opportunity that we have in this country that is unparalleled anywhere in the world. . . . If I can become speaker, it’s because this country makes that possible.”

To become mayor is something else again.

In the crude calculus of Los Angeles’ racial and ethnic politics, Villaraigosa’s challenge would be to piece together a winning coalition in a way no other candidate ever has: He needs the strong support of Latinos and enough backing among whites to overcome what most analysts predict would be a poor showing among blacks if City Atty. Hahn runs.

There is some precedent for a winning Anglo-Latino coalition. Riordan, after all, put together his 1993 victory by lumping together a strong white vote with a respectable showing among Latinos, and then extended his margin in 1997 in part by substantially improving his Latino support.

But Riordan started with an essentially unlimited budget--he is, after all, a multimillionaire. With that money and as the only serious Republican in the race, he built a solid base among Republicans and conservatives and then extended it.

In the parlance of politics, he “started right and moved left.”

Villaraigosa’s finances do not give him the luxury of a self-paid campaign. Moreover, he would have to move in the opposite direction and inspire a lot of people who have never voted to get up and go to the polls--something like what Tom Bradley did with a new blend of colors, issues and voters.

As one political strategist said, “To win, he needs to run the table on the Eastside, and then move beyond.”

One thing that could stop that strategy in its tracks would be to have a number of Latinos in the race, competing to establish a base on the Eastside. Supervisor Molina is one potential contender, as is Rep. Xavier Becerra (D-Los Angeles). Becerra, who is said to be serious about a run for mayor, also poses a threat to Villaraigosa’s most likely source of campaign money, national Latino fund-raising groups. That’s because Becerra is a member of Congress and a leader of the Hispanic Caucus, so he already is well known in Washington.

There’s no overstating how important that money will be, especially for a candidate like Villaraigosa, who would face a battle simply to make himself known. Most observers believe it would cost Villaraigosa or some other relative unknown--say, Riordan advisor and developer Steve Soboroff--at least $4 million to elbow his way to a place at the table.

Villaraigosa boasts of his fund-raising abilities, and with good reason. Just this month, he hosted a Southern California dinner that raised $1 million for Assembly Democrats, and his efforts last year topped all records for an Assembly speaker, besting even such giants as Willie Brown and Jesse Unruh.

But there are two notes of caution to consider in evaluating those numbers. One is that California now operates in an era of spiraling election costs and no contribution limits, making political contributions easier to raise than in the past. The other is that just because Villaraigosa can raise money as speaker does not mean that he can raise it to run for mayor.

Many of the same donors willing to chip in for Assembly Democrats already back Hahn for mayor; others might be tempted to wait and see whether Yaroslavsky runs.

Finally, Los Angeles, unlike the state, limits contributions to $1,000 apiece, except for candidates who pay their own way. So raising money here means fewer big checks and lots of little ones; in short, raising $5 million to run for mayor means persuading 5,000 people to contribute $1,000 each--no mean feat.

Job Delays His Entry Into the Fray

Raising that money takes time and work. And though Villaraigosa shows no signs of flinching from work, he is pressed for time.

Assembly Democrats insist that he devote his fund-raising efforts to them--part of the price he pays for the honor of serving as speaker. That keeps Villaraigosa out of personal fund-raising until the end of his term, delaying his entry into the mayor’s race while Hahn in particular works to build an insurmountable base.

In addition, Villaraigosa has his own job to attend to, and that means maintaining order among a fractious and famously hard to please bunch of Assembly members. In fact, there already are some rumblings about his performance in light of former Oakland Mayor Elihu Harris’ embarrassing defeat at the hands of a largely unknown third-party candidate.

If Villaraigosa can keep his Assembly colleagues calm, hold onto his job and then launch his bid for mayor, his chances would be helped if a relatively cluttered field joined the hunt and kept Hahn from winning in the first round. One consultant eyeing the race said Villaraigosa’s best hope would be to finish second to Hahn in the primary--a finish that virtually depends on Yaroslavsky deciding against a run--then parlay that momentum into a head-to-head competition that would emphasize the former speaker’s flash against Hahn’s relative blandness.

“It’s just possible that he could make that work,” the consultant said.

Others disagree. They say the day when a Latino is elected mayor of Los Angeles is coming, but it’s not here yet. And even when it arrives, they say, a more conservative politician may be more likely to win the job than such an outspoken liberal.

Villaraigosa is undeterred. With a wink and a nod, he alludes to the campaign he might run soon but has not quite entered, brimming with confidence, enjoying the coy dance of a candidate who believes he can win but isn’t quite ready to say so.

“For now, I just need to have another good year,” he said. “I’m talking to people, consultant types. We know that at some point I may have to reassess, but right now, I’m the speaker.”