Familiar Ring to Mayor’s Agenda

In his eight years as mayor of Los Angeles, Richard Riordan liked to say that “politics is the art of the possible.” Over the last seven days, one of Riordan’s successors, Antonio Villaraigosa, has tested that theory, pushing a multifaceted program dizzying in its ambition and yet strangely familiar: Its key elements, many observers pointed out last week, are not so different from those pursued by Riordan himself.

Riordan and Villaraigosa could barely be more different in political terms. Riordan was a venture capitalist Republican swept into office in his first bid on the heels of a riot. Villaraigosa is a seasoned Sacramento politician, former speaker of the state Assembly, a liberal Democrat backed by organized labor who lost his first run for mayor only to recover and win the seat four years later.

And yet, Riordan’s administration was distinguished by precisely the same two defining goals that thus far have marked Villaraigosa’s: reform of the school system and expansion of the Los Angeles Police Department.

Riordan ended up with most, but not all, of what he sought in those two areas: He promised 3,000 additional LAPD officers and got about 2,500; he vowed to upend the school system and settled for backing candidates for the school board, who temporarily gained control only to be forced out by later elections.

Last week, Villaraigosa launched his version of those efforts: a trash fee to pay for a buildup of the LAPD and a mayoral takeover of local schools, along with plans to plant 1 million trees, expand the city bus system, build new libraries and pave more roads, among other things. Few modern mayors have attempted so much, so fast.

“Los Angeles,” City Council President Eric Garcetti observed, reflecting on Villaraigosa’s slate of initiatives, “is a place where the playing field is essentially limitless.”

At its core, Villaraigosa’s education reform proposal would create a “council of mayors” that would oversee the Los Angeles Unified School District and include representatives from the district and each of the other 27 jurisdictions it serves.

The wrinkle, however, is that voting within the council would be proportional to population, so Villaraigosa would control more than 80% of the council’s votes -- in effect, meaning that he would never be on the losing side of any issue, that he and he alone would be accountable for the district’s success or failure.

That impresses advocates of a system that they say now drifts badly without identifiable leadership -- “How many people do you see jumping up and saying, ‘Hold me accountable?’ ” asked Assembly Speaker Fabian Nunez (D-Los Angeles), Villaraigosa’s close friend and ally.

But it infuriates the school board, which would see its powers diminished, and it worries some of the mayors who would be Villaraigosa’s junior partners on the council. If they are to be mere window dressing on a Los Angeles-run schools council, then, some have asked, what’s in it for them?

Interviewed late last week, Riordan credited Villaraigosa for highlighting safety and schools, and added that he believes the mayor may have a better chance of more lasting success than he did.

“Our first choice was to do what he’s doing,” Riordan said of Villaraigosa’s move to gain control of local schools. “But our political experts convinced me that we couldn’t get it through the Legislature.”

In part, Riordan said, he backed off because it was hard to imagine the Democratically controlled Legislature agreeing to turn over control of Los Angeles schools to a Republican mayor.

Indeed, Villaraigosa’s allies agree that even he, ideologically in tune with much of the Legislature and armed with many friends there, will find it tough going if the teachers unions array against him, as they have threatened.

That Villaraigosa has made public safety and mayoral control of public schools priorities just as Riordan did in the late 1990s struck some observers as amusing -- an example of politics and its strange companionships -- and others as the inevitable result of honestly appraising the city’s needs.

Among those struck by the similarities was Riordan himself. The plucky former mayor had an explanation, one characteristically his own. “It’s because I was right,” he said. “And because he hired all my people.” For example, Riordan’s chief of staff, Robin Kramer, is now Villaraigosa’s chief.

Bob Hertzberg, who has known Villaraigosa for decades and ran against him for mayor last year, sees the confluence of Riordan’s agenda and Villaraigosa’s somewhat differently -- as the product of common sense rather than common staff.

“I think the reason why ... is that this is what the city needs,” Hertzberg said. “People want to feel safe, whether they’re Republicans or Democrats.”

As for education, Hertzberg added, Republicans may see its value in terms of the opportunity it provides and Democrats may be more inclined to view it through the perspective of the jobs it creates -- but no one denies its vitality.

If Villaraigosa’s program bears some earmarks of Riordan’s, the speed with which Villaraigosa is attempting to get his major initiatives in place is dazzlingly his alone.

Riordan concentrated first on the LAPD. He had run on the slogan of being “Tough Enough to Turn L.A. Around,” and all priorities gave way to the LAPD in those first four years. Only in Riordan’s second term did he take on overthrow of the school board.

Villaraigosa has chosen a different pace. Less than one year into his first term, he already has championed a bond for publicly supported housing, a significant increase in trash fees to pay for police, and an array of smaller but still substantial programs in areas such as libraries, environmental protection and downtown vitalization.

Last week, friends and critics agree, Villaraigosa showed how much he’s willing to bite. But he still has not proven how fast he can chew.

Having run against Villaraigosa but now part of the mayor’s loose team of advisors, Hertzberg knows that others pay attention to signs of discord between the two. As a result, he steps carefully around the question of whether Villaraigosa is trying to do too much, too soon.

“In politics, you build incrementally,” he said last week, conspicuously choosing his words carefully for a man who tends to blurt out policy in fast bites. “Each success lets you build to another success.”

He cited the opposing examples of presidents Carter and Reagan. Carter, he said, did too much all at once and squandered his capital. Reagan focused first on righting the economy, then moved onto the foreign policy achievements that came to define much of his legacy.

Which does Villaraigosa more resemble? Hertzberg suddenly stopped analyzing, preferring not to venture an opinion there.

As for the other major prong of Villaraigosa’s agenda, the proposal to levy trash fees to hire police, the early soundings of the City Council are largely positive.

Council President Garcetti, a skillful reader of that body, predicted strong support, calling the idea “an honest way of dealing with that issue,” and credited the budget generally with reflecting “commonly held values” between the mayor and council.

A few council members took a dimmer view -- Herb Wesson wants a way to protect the poor from the trash fee hikes; Wendy Greuel sounds cautious about voter reactions -- but by and large, even the prospect of raising rates did little to disturb Garcetti’s analysis.

That seems to foreshadow a smooth ride at the council, one possibly in contrast to bumpier days ahead in Sacramento, where the Legislature will digest Villaraigosa’s schools plan in the midst of an election year, with interested parties highly tuned to the debate.

Nunez will be one of Villaraigosa’s essential allies, and he agrees it will not be simple. But the speaker said he has no doubt about where it will end.

Asked to rate, on a scale of 1 to 10, Villaraigosa’s chances of winning a Legislative vote on the “council of mayors” and securing the signature of Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger to make that proposal law, Nunez did not hesitate.

“Ten,” he said. Given the chance to reconsider, he repeated: “Ten.”