Style Sets Mayoral Foes Apart

Their political differences would fill a very thin briefing book. Their hopes for the city? More alike than not. One liberal Democrat touts his service at City Hall; the other cites achievements in the state Legislature.

In many ways, all but the most careful parsing fails to turn up much that differentiates Antonio Villaraigosa and James K. Hahn, the two men competing to be mayor of Los Angeles. But in the immediate and ever-pressing world of the campaign--struggling to win the approval of voters--the two mayoral candidates could hardly be more different.

Hahn speaks in a pacific, Sunday school monotone; Villaraigosa implores in the gravelly tones of the street. Hahn offers a polite hand; Villaraigosa grips and pulls his listener closer. Hahn stays on schedule; Villaraigosa lingers with the crowd. Hahn settles back with hands in lap; Villaraigosa leans forward on the edge of his seat--the former legislator’s broad grin threatening to eclipse the city attorney’s faint, enigmatic smile.

The candidates’ antithetical styles are more than superficial. They seem to cut to the core of the two would-be mayors’ characters and suggest, beyond the June 5 election, how each might operate inside City Hall. Hahn projects the aura of the careful, deliberate administrator, prepared to fine tune programs at City Hall. Villaraigosa presents himself as the passionate and striving leader, ready to push for ambitious change.

“The style,” as the ancient maxim goes, “is the man himself.”

The candidates and their consultants strive mightily to avoid falling into narrow or unflattering caricatures. Certainly, both Hahn and Villaraigosa have occasionally exploded the mythology that is developing around them.

But even their most loyal boosters inadvertently offer bon mots for what could become a game of Villaraigosa-Hahn word association: Villaraigosa is “charismatic” and Hahn is “safe.” Villaraigosa is “restless” and Hahn is “settled.” Villaraigosa is “ebullient,” while Hahn is “sedate.”

Those characteristics are more than campaign poses; indeed, they seem deeply rooted in both men’s personalities. Although both were born and raised in Los Angeles--Villaraigosa in the Eastside neighborhood of City Terrace and Hahn in Southwest Los Angeles’ Crenshaw district--their markedly different childhoods molded the candidates who face the public today.

Villaraigosa, 48, was the child of a broken home, raised by a strong mother who helped lure him away from the streets and onto the path to college and a career. The 50-year-old Hahn, in contrast, was born to a legacy of leadership, the son of the venerable county Supervisor Kenneth Hahn and nephew of Los Angeles City Councilman Gordon Hahn. Emulating his popular father was a powerful motivator for Hahn, while Villaraigosa, a close friend said, always strove to prove something to the abusive father he hardly knew.

Hahn’s family name helped catapult him, at just 30, into the city controller’s office and then to four terms as city attorney. Villaraigosa fought through personal failures and brushes with the law before graduating from UCLA and molding himself from community and labor organizer into politician.

A soft-spoken and laid-back young man, Hahn sometimes seemed to shoulder his political duties as a burden. He occasionally even skipped out on fund-raisers to be with his family, said one former associate. Villaraigosa, from his youth, relished talking to people and getting them to come together. In high school, the Latino teenager helped form a Black Students Union. The young man friends once called “Tony Rap” is still very much alive today.

At a reception 10 days before the April 10 primary at the Watts Health Foundation clinic, Villaraigosa’s voice dropped and rose in the cadences of a Sunday minister. From a whisper to a throaty roar, he didn’t just deliver a speech on the subject of racial harmony. He preached.

“What was great about today’s census?” Villaraigosa asked a multiethnic audience crowded into a large meeting room. “There aren’t any majorities anymore. So now we can just all be people. Human beings. Human beings with the same aspirations, the same hopes, the same fears, the same dreams. None of us have a monopoly on hopes and dreams.”

Addressing a crowd of many races as “my brothers and sisters,” he never appeared to be overreaching. The audience was left applauding and calling out in agreement.

Two days later, making an appearance at the Watts Labor Community Action Committee, Hahn seemed almost oblivious to the rustle of excitement his presence generated. The city attorney stopped at a couple of tables, shaking some hands, but seemed distracted and almost indifferent to the older women grabbing at him and gushingly recalling his father.

And yet, Hahn can and does connect with some voters. He remembers names, often greeting constituents with easy familiarity. Inside the city attorney’s office, he is known for recognizing even low-ranking employees and being able to discuss the details of their work.

The images of an energized Villaraigosa and a reserved Hahn have become staples of the runoff as well.

They both appeared at a San Pedro community room, where residents sat around a circle of wooden tables to discuss forming a neighborhood council. Hahn leaned back and offered only an occasional gentle prodding. Villaraigosa sat on the edge of his seat, just a few chairs away, laughing and pounding his fist on the table to help restore order.

A few days later, at the dedication of a new cathedral for the West Angeles Church of God in Christ, Villaraigosa bounced, swung his hips and sang along with the soaring gospel music. One pew in front of him, Hahn stayed mostly in his seat. He clapped methodically--expression locked somewhere between stoic and mildly pleased.

But who’s to say what the demeanor of a mayor should be?

Even many Hahn supporters acknowledge that Villaraigosa wins the charisma contest. At the same time, they suggest that their candidate’s temperate demeanor also speaks to a strength--the city attorney’s sober competence.

“JFK said during his election that what we need is leadership, not salesmanship,” said Chuck Fuentes, a long-time friend who once worked for Hahn at City Hall. “That’s how I see Jim Hahn.”

What’s more, the candidates regularly challenge their own stereotypes.

Hahn’s droll and self-effacing wit cuts nicely against the grain of his sometimes gray, lawyerly speeches. At UCLA for a forum on economic development in the urban core, Hahn told about 100 listeners that his host’s report of a year earlier included one particularly compelling summary about job creation. “Those were telling words, let’s check who said them,” dead-panned Hahn, flipping through his program. “Er, it says here . . . City Atty. James Hahn!”

Villaraigosa, also countering stereotype, takes time to engage the public well beyond the retail political moment.

When a group of UCLA students recently went to his Mt. Washington home, Villaraigosa gave no hint of how little time he had to spare. Even as his own staff was struggling to free snippets of his time, the candidate spent more than an hour counseling the student activists on their fight for affirmative action.

In both cases, Villaraigosa and Hahn have been defined not just by their personalities but also by the jobs they have held.

Inside, Outside City Hall

As city attorney, Hahn has his own political mandate, but he insists that his job description will not allow him to jump out in front of many issues with strident pronouncements. He has an obligation, under the charter, to fulfill his duties as chief legal advisor to the City Council, mayor and city departments. As part of City Hall for 20 years, further, Hahn has less to gain by calling for wholesale changes of the status quo.

Villaraigosa, in contrast, served as Assembly speaker--a post in which fervent lobbying and the ability to build coalitions are crucial. Now, he has nothing to lose in slamming a city government that he hasn’t helped run.

The former speaker also benefits from a sense of energy that emanates from beyond his own persona. It comes from the reflected enthusiasm of followers who see themselves on the verge of a historic breakthrough--the chance to elect the first Latino mayor of Los Angeles in nearly 130 years.

One person who got to see both candidates operate up close for more than a year was Steve Soboroff, the businessman who finished third and just out of contention in the April 10 election.

Soboroff became friendly with Villaraigosa over the months--the two often whispering thoughts to each other in the midst of early debates. He got to know both finalists better recently, when each paid an extended visit to his Santa Monica office.

Soboroff said it was clear from the first days on the campaign trail that Villaraigosa’s personality and verve would help him immensely and potentially continue to pay off in the mayor’s office.

The former recreation and parks commissioner said that Hahn’s charms remained shrouded, until their recent meeting. Now he believes the city attorney is simply over-managed.

“If everybody would just leave this guy alone, he happens to be a nice guy and has warmth and a sparkle to him,” Soboroff said of Hahn. “He . . . needs to be a little more himself.”

Soboroff stressed that he has not yet decided whom, if anyone, to endorse in the runoff.

In the final weeks of a campaign that has dominated their lives for more than a year, the candidates remain true to their determinedly different natures.

Hahn regulates his public appearances, stays focused on his message and his mission. He campaigns amiably and dutifully tends to the business of raising money and returning reporters’ phone calls. But he does not always relish the moment.

One recent morning, when a press aide informed Hahn that he was scheduled for a series of back-to-back television interviews, the city attorney sighed. “Isn’t that a drag?” he said with a thin smile.

Villaraigosa, in contrast, regularly draws out his public moments just a little bit longer--whether with an audience of 100, a reporter, or a single voter.

On a recent morning at Phillips Temple Christian Methodist Episcopal Church in South Los Angeles, Villaraigosa paused with a group of kindergartners. He got the children to count to 10 in English and Spanish, then knelt to try to connect with one little boy, who seemed detached from the group.

Villaraigosa asked more than a dozen children their names and one beaming girl called out hers: “Destiny.”

The former Assembly speaker paused and smiled himself. “Destiny,” he said. “I love it. I want to borrow that name for just a few weeks.”

*

Times staff writers Matea Gold and Hector Tobar contributed to this story.

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