Hopefuls Run Own Marathon for Votes

About 4 a.m. Saturday, a black limousine van pulled up in front of hipster diner Fred 62 in Los Feliz and disgorged a dapper man in slacks and a suede jacket, followed by an unlikely entourage ranging in age from 15 to 79.

“Who are these people?” a young woman asked.

As the Whodini rap classic “The Freaks Come Out at Night” blasted from the restaurant’s sound system, mayoral candidate Antonio Villaraigosa peered into the dark, his bright eyes peeled for voters.

Three days before Tuesday’s election, the city’s mayoral candidates stalked registered voters across Los Angeles on Saturday, pursuing them in restaurants, on Little League fields, and even into their homes.

Bolstered by a duffel bag full of vitamins, along with eyedrops and endless cups of tea, Villaraigosa threw himself into a marathon, 32-hour odyssey around Los Angeles, explaining the trip to anyone who would listen: “What’s the message? We need a mayor with energy and comfort in every community,” he said.

The four other major candidates -- Mayor James K. Hahn, state Sen. Richard Alarcon, Councilman Bernard C. Parks and former Assembly Speaker Bob Hertzberg -- hit the campaign trail early Saturday.

Hertzberg began the day by greeting voters corralled at the Original Pantry restaurant downtown, which is owned by former Mayor Richard Riordan, Hertzberg’s most visible supporter.

With Riordan at his side, the candidate ambled from table to table, shaking hands and urging diners to vote for him.

But on the eve of the Los Angeles Marathon, many of those loading up on eggs and pancakes were out-of-town runners who seemed startled when Hertzberg, Riordan and a crush of television cameras interrupted their breakfasts.

“Vote. Don’t forget to vote,” Hertzberg exhorted.

Later, at a coffeehouse in the Crenshaw district, Hertzberg told community activists that the city couldn’t afford another four years of Hahn.

“Four years now in this new world order is a lifetime,” he said. “Four years ago, there was no TiVo. Four years ago, there were no iPods. And four years ago, a Blackberry was something you ate. We can’t sit around and wait another four years.”

Hahn, meanwhile, rallied supporters at his Miracle Mile campaign headquarters and again assailed Hertzberg, the former Assembly speaker, for working with Enron when he was trying to solve the state’s energy crisis. His supporters -- mostly union members, his City Hall staff and a handful of city commissioners -- took up the chant: “You can run, but you can’t hide; we know you’re on Enron’s side.”

Then the mayor was escorted to a leafy street off Sunset Boulevard where Councilman Tom LaBonge, one of his most ardent supporters, helped him knock on a few doors.

The gregarious LaBonge, whose aide ran ahead to see who was home, greeted constituents as though they were old friends, talking up Hahn and gently ushering the mayor into the living rooms of stately houses on Genesee Avenue.

At one point, the councilman, the mayor and state Sen. Gil Cedillo surprised a woman returning from grocery shopping in her minivan.

The startled homeowner looked mildly reluctant to engage the three politicians. But LaBonge, singing the neighborhood’s praises, introduced Hahn and explained the day’s mission.

Rather than talk to the woman, however, Hahn disappeared into the house with her groceries, leaving LaBonge and Cedillo to talk to her.

Later Saturday, Hahn stopped at the Beverlywood home of a supporter and, and guests snacked on tea sandwiches, the mayor implored them to call their friends and urge them to vote Tuesday. “The key for me is turnout,” he said.

Parks campaigned from South Los Angeles to the Westside, carrying a message that the city needs new leadership.

At the Slauson recreation and senior center in South L.A., Parks shook hands with African American men playing basketball. He met and hugged a handful of women, including his daughter, who have lost children to gun violence. And he criticized Hahn for suddenly announcing he had found money to hire more police officers.

Parks said he hoped voters would not be swayed by the mayor’s attack ads, which began airing on television in recent days.

“When you have no substance, you call names,” he said. “When you have no substance, and you can’t pull together your own record, you’ll begin to trash other people.”

The former LAPD chief, who was denied a second term by Hahn, said he was confident that the election would bring change to City Hall.

“I think the city of L.A. is going to end up with a new mayor,” he said with a smile.

Alarcon, wearing black slacks and a white polo shirt that said “Team Alarcon,” joined a longtime friend, comedian George Lopez, in a bus tour.

His entourage wore bright red T-shirts that also said “Team Alarcon,” shunning sweatshirts that would cover the logo, and shivering in the cold morning air.

The underdog candidate ended with a rally at City Hall.

“Too many decisions are made in this building, when they should be made in your communities,” Alarcon said in a short speech that was frequently interrupted by cries of “Alarcon, Alarcon!”

Teresa Marquez, a retired bank vice president from Boyle Heights, said she backs Alarcon because “he’s not afraid to do different things,” such as opposing “favors for special interests.” As for Hertzberg and Villaraigosa, Marquez said, “all they know how to do is collect money.”

Alarcon acknowledged that he was lagging in the polls, but said he believed some of his supporters were people who haven’t voted in mayoral elections in the past and therefore weren’t being counted by pollsters.

Earlier Saturday morning, Alarcon and Villaraigosa crossed paths at the Sylmar Little League. For nearly half an hour, the two opponents stood together surrounded by hundreds of children in baseball uniforms, often posing together for photographs. When someone pointed out that it was nice to see two Latinos campaigning together, Villaraigosa and Alarcon joined hands and raised them above their heads.

By that time, Villaraigosa had been up for more than 30 hours. He was joined at various points by his son, Antonio Jr., and elected officials such as City Councilman Martin Ludlow, Rep. Hilda Solis and retired Department of Water and Power general manager David Freeman, who is 79. Freeman said he hadn’t stayed up all night for any candidate “since Jimmy Carter.”

By far, the strangest moments in Villaraigosa’s all-nighter came in the dark of night.

At midnight Friday, Villaraigosa worked the singles scene at the Lucky Strike Lanes, a high-tech bar and bowling alley at Hollywood and Highland. A number of young voters recognized and were glad to see him. Some even gathered around and posed for photos.

Cesar Morales, 24, of Sylmar happily juggled a beer to shake the candidate’s hand. Later, Morales said he hadn’t decided whom to vote for yet, but he was impressed that Villaraigosa showed up.

“It might even change my vote,” the Los Angeles County employee said. “Of course, I’d rather talk to him when I’m sober.”

The entourage headed to another bowling alley, Pinz, in Studio City. Villaraigosa approached almost every bowler, giving many a powerful and friendly squeeze on the shoulder -- a trademark move that comes off sort of like a benign Vulcan death grip.

“I’m running for mayor,” Villaraigosa said to a confused-looking bowler from Tarzana named Jennifer Marks.

“Me too. Ha Ha Ha!” she replied.

The candidate tried again: “What school do you go to?”

“What school do you go to?” she said as her friends giggled and snorted.

“All right,” Villaraigosa conceded. “I’ll vote for you -- but only if you vote for me.”

At one point, Villaraigosa lay back in the limo with his eyes half-closed. Wouldn’t the lack of sleep take a toll? Wasn’t he worried that he wouldn’t be sharp enough in the final hours of the campaign?

He bolted upright and grinned: “I’ll be brighter than the guy sitting in the mayor’s office right now.”

Times staff writers Noam N. Levey, Jeffrey L. Rabin and Henry Weinstein contributed to this report.