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Tag: San Francisco mayor

  • Commentary: Gavin Newsom and Kamala Harris have traveled parallel paths. Will they collide in 2028?

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    Gavin Newsom and Kamala Harris have long circled one another.

    The two moved in the same political slipstream, wooed the same set of Democratic donors and, for a time, even shared the same group of campaign advisors.

    Harris rose from San Francisco district attorney to elected positions in Sacramento and Washington before twice running unsuccessfully for president.

    Newsom climbed from San Francisco mayor to lieutenant governor to California’s governorship, where he quietly stewed as Harris leapfrogged past him into the vice presidency. While she served in the White House, Newsom tried any number of ways to insinuate himself into the national spotlight.

    Now both have at least one eye on the Oval Office, setting up a potential clash of egos and ambition that’s been decades in the making.

    Newsom, whose term as governor expires in January, has been auditioning for president from practically the moment the polls closed in 2024 and horrified Democrats realized Harris had lost to Donald Trump.

    Harris, who’s mostly focused on writing and promoting her campaign autobiography — while giving a political speech here and there — hasn’t publicly declared she’ll seek the White House a third time. But, notably, she has yet to rule out the possibility.

    In a CNN interview aired Sunday, Newsom was asked about the prospect of facing his longtime frenemy in a fight for the Democratic nomination. (California’s gallivanting governor is embarked on his own national book tour, promoting both the “memoir of discovery” that was published Tuesday and his all-but-declared presidential bid.)

    “Well, I’m San Francisco now, she’s L.A.,” Newsom joked, referring to Harris’ post-Washington residency in Brentwood. “So there’s a little distance between the two of us.”

    He then turned zen-like, saying fate would determine if the two face off in the 2028 primary contest. “You can only control what you can control,” Newsom told CNN host Dana Bash.

    A decade ago, Newsom and Harris swerved to keep their careers from colliding.

    In 2015, Barbara Boxer said she would step down once she finished her fourth term in the U.S. Senate. The opening presented a rare opportunity for political advancement after years in which a clutch of aging incumbents held California’s top elected offices. Between Lt. Gov. Newsom and state Atty. Gen. Harris, there was no lack of pent-up ambition.

    After a weekend of intensive deliberations, Newsom passed on the Senate race and Harris jumped in, establishing herself as the front-runner for Boxer’s seat, which she won in 2016. Newsom waited and was elected governor in 2018, succeeding Jerry Brown.

    Once in their preferred roles, the two got along reasonably well. Each campaigned on the other’s behalf. But, privately, there has never been a great deal of mutual regard or affection.

    Come 2028, there will doubtless be many Democrats seeking to replace President Trump. The party’s last wide-open contest, in 2020, drew more than two dozen major contestants. So it’s not as though Harris and Newsom would face each other in a one-on-one fight.

    But dueling on the national stage, with the country’s top political prize at stake, is something that Hollywood might have scripted for Newsom and Harris as the way to settle, once and for all, their long-standing rivalry.

    The two Californians would start out closely matched in good looks and charisma.

    Those who know them well, having observed Newsom and Harris up close, cite other strengths and weaknesses.

    Harris has thicker skin, they suggested, and is more disciplined. Her forte is set-piece events, like debates and big speeches.

    Newsom is more of a policy wonk, a greater risk-taker and is more willing to venture into challenging and even hostile settings.

    Newson is more fluent in the ecosphere of social media, podcasts and the like. Harris has the advantage of performing longer on the national stage and bears nothing like the personal scandals that have plagued Newsom.

    But Harris’ problem, it was widely agreed, is that she has run twice before and, worse, lost the last time to Trump.

    “To a lot of voters, she’s yesterday’s news,” said one campaign strategist.

    “She had her shot,” said another, channeling the perceived way Democratic primary voters would react to another Harris run. “You didn’t make it, so why should we give you another shot?”

    (Those half-dozen kibbitzers who agreed to candidly assess the prospects of Newsom and Harris asked not to be identified, so they could preserve their relationships with the two.)

    Most of the handicappers gave the edge to Newsom in a prospective match-up; one political operative familiar with both would have placed their wager on Harris had she not run before.

    “I think her demographic appeal to Black women and coming up the ranks as a Black woman working in criminal justice is a very strong card,” said the campaign strategist. “The white guy from California, the pretty boy, is not as much of a primary draw.”

    That said, this strategist, too, suggested that “being tagged as someone who not only lost but lost in this situation that has set the world on fire … is too big a cross to bear.”

    The consensus among these cognoscenti is that Harris will not run again and that Newsom — notwithstanding any demurrals — will.

    Of course, the only two who know for sure are those principals, and it’s quite possible neither Harris nor Newsom have entirely made up their minds.

    Those who enjoy their politics cut with a dash of soap opera will just have to wait.

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    Mark Z. Barabak

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  • Commentary: Their brotherly love transcends politics — and California’s tooth-and-nail redistricting fight

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    INCLINE VILLAGE, Nev. — Jim Ross has had a long and fruitful career as a Democratic campaign strategist. Among his victories was electing Gavin Newsom as San Francisco mayor.

    Tom Ross has enjoyed similar success on the Republican side. He counts Kevin McCarthy’s election to the Legislature and, later, Congress, among his wins.

    But perhaps his most important achievement, Tom Ross said, was working on the 2008 campaign that established California’s independent redistricting commission — “the gold standard” for fair and impartial political map-making. “It needs protecting,” he said.

    No, said Jim Ross. It needs overriding.

    He backs Newsom’s effort to undo the commission’s work in favor of a gerrymander that could boost Democratic chances of winning the House in 2026 — or else, he fears, “there will be ongoing Republican domination of politics … for decades to come.”

    The two are brothers who, despite their differences, harbor an abiding love and respect for one another, along with an ironclad resolve that nothing — no campaign, no candidate, no political issue — can or ever will be allowed to drive a wedge between them.

    “Tom’s the best person I know. The best person I know,” Jim, 57, said as his brother, 55, sat across from him at a local burrito joint, tearing up. “There’s issues we could go round and round on, which we’re not going to do.”

    “Especially,” said Tom, “with someone you care about and love.”

    That sort of fraternal bond, transcending partisanship and one of the most heated political fights of this charged moment, shouldn’t be unusual or particularly noteworthy — even for a pair who make their living working for parties locked in furious combat. But in these vexing and highly contentious times it surely is.

    Maybe there’s something others can take away.

    ::

    The Ross brothers grew up in Incline Village, not far from where Nevada meets California. That was decades ago, before the forested hamlet on Tahoe’s east shore became a playground for the rich and ultra-rich.

    The family — Mom, Dad, four boys and a girl — settled there after John Ross retired from a career in the Air Force, which included three combat tours in Vietnam.

    John and his wife, Joan, weren’t especially political, though they were active and civic-minded. Joan was involved in the Catholic church. John, who took up a career in real estate, worked on ways to improve the community.

    The lessons they taught their children were grounded in duty, discipline and detail. Early on, the kids learned there’s no such thing as a free ride. Jim got his first job at the 76 station, before he could drive. Tom mowed lawns, washed cars and ran a lemonade stand. The least fortunate among the siblings wore a bear suit and waved a sign, trying to shag customers for their dad’s real estate business.

    To this day, the brothers disdain anything that smacks of entitlement. “That’s our family,” Jim said. “We’re all workers.”

    Like their parents, the two weren’t politically active growing up. They ended up majoring in government and political science — Jim at Saint Mary’s College in the Bay Area, Tom at Gonzaga University in Washington state — as a kind of default. Both had instructors who brought the subject to life.

    Jim’s start in the profession came in his junior year when Clint Reilly, then one of California premier campaign strategists, came to speak to his college class. It was the first time Jim realized it was possible to make a living in politics — and Reilly’s snazzy suit suggested it could be a lucrative one.

    Jim interned for Reilly and after graduating and knocking about for a time — teaching skiing in Tahoe, working as a sales rep for Banana Boat sunscreen — he tapped an acquaintance from Reilly’s firm to land a job with Frank Jordan’s 1991 campaign for San Francisco mayor.

    From there, Jim moved on to a state Assembly race in Wine Country, just as Tom was graduating and looking for work. Using his connections, Jim helped Tom find a job as the driver for a congressional candidate in the area.

    At the time, both were Republicans, like their father. Their non-ideological approach to politics also reflected the thinking of Col. Ross. Public service wasn’t about party pieties, Jim said, but rather “finding a solution to a problem.”

    Jim, left, and Tom Ross have only directly competed in a campaign once, on a statewide rent control measure. They talk shop but avoid discussing politics.

    (William Hale Irwin / For The Times)

    Jim’s drift away from the GOP began when he worked for another Republican Assembly candidate whom he remembers, distastefully, as reflexively partisan, homophobic and anti-worker. His changed outlook solidified after several months working on a 1992 Louisiana congressional race. The grinding poverty he saw in the South was shocking, Jim said, and its remedy seemed well beyond the up-by-your-bootstraps nostrums he’d absorbed.

    Jim came to see government as a necessary agent for change and improvement, and that made the Democratic Party a more natural home. “There’s not one thing that has bettered human existence that hasn’t had, at its core, our ability to work collectively,” Jim said. “And our ability to work collectively comes down to government.”

    Tom looked on placidly, a Latin rhythm capering overhead.

    He believes that success, and personal fulfillment, lies in individual achievement. The Republicans he admires include Jack Kemp, the rare member of his party who focused on urban poverty, and the George W. Bush of 2000, who ran for president as a “compassionate conservative” with a strong record of bipartisan accomplishment as Texas governor.

    (Tom is no fan of Donald Trump, finding the president’s casual cruelty toward people particularly off-putting.)

    He distinctly remembers the moment, at age 22, when he realized he was standing on his own two feet, financially supporting himself and making his way in the world through the power of his own perseverance.

    “For me, that’s what Republicans should be,” Tom said. “How do you give people that experience in life? That’s what we should be trying to do.”

    ::

    Newsom’s 2003 campaign for San Francisco mayor was a brutal one, typical of the city’s elbows-out, alley-fighting politics.

    It took a physical toll on Jim Ross, Newsom’s campaign manager, who suffered chest pains and, at one point, wound up in the hospital. Was the strain worth it, he wondered. Should he quit?

    “The only person I could really call and talk to was Tom,” Jim said. “He understands what it is to work that hard on a campaign. And he wasn’t going to go and leak it to the press, or tell someone who would use it in some way to hurt me.”

    That kind of empathy and implicit trust, which runs both ways, far outweighs any political considerations, the two said. Why would they surrender such a deep and meaningful relationship for some short-term tactical gain, or allow a disagreement over personalities or policy to set things asunder?

    Jim lives and works out of the East Bay. Tom runs his business from Sacramento. The two faced each other on the campaign battlefield just once, squaring off over a 2018 ballot measure that sought to expand rent control in California. The initiative was rejected.

    Though they’ve staked opposing positions on Newsom’s redistricting measure, Proposition 50, Jim has no formal role in the Democratic campaign. Tom is working to defeat it.

    The brief airing of their differences was unusual, coming solely at the behest of your friendly columnist. As a rule, the brothers talk business but avoid politics; there’s hardly a need — they already know where each other is coming from. After all, they shared a bedroom growing up.

    Jim had a story to tell.

    Last spring, as their mother lay dying, the two left the hospital in Reno to shower and get a bit of rest at their father’s place in Incline Village. The phone rang. It was the overnight nurse, calling to let them know their mom had passed away.

    “Tom takes the call,” Jim said. “The first thing he says to the nurse is, ‘Are you OK? Is it hard for you to deal with this?’ And that’s how Tom is. Major thing, but he thinks about the other person first.”

    He laughed, a loud gale. “I’m not that way.”

    Tom had a story to tell.

    In 2017, he bought a mountain bike, to celebrate the end of his treatment for non-Hodgkin lymphoma. He’d been worn out by six months of chemotherapy and wasn’t anywhere near full strength. Still, he was determined to tackle one of Tahoe’s most scenic rides, which involves a lung-searing, roughly five-mile climb.

    Tom walked partway, then got back on his bike and powered uphill through the last 500 or so yards.

    Waiting for him up top was Jim, seated alongside two strangers. “That’s my brother,” he proudly pointed out. “He beat cancer.”

    Tom’s eyes welled. His chin quavered and his voice cracked. He paused to collect himself.

    “Do I want to sacrifice that relationship for some stupid tweet, or some in-the-moment anger?” he asked. “That connection with someone, you want to cut it over that? That’s just stupid. That’s just silly.”

    Jim glowed.

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    Mark Z. Barabak

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  • Levi’s heir and political outsider Daniel Lurie wins San Francisco mayor’s race

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    SAN FRANCISCO —  Philanthropist and Levi’s heir Daniel Lurie has won the hard-fought race for San Francisco mayor, ushering in a new era of leadership for a city whose voters made clear they are fed up with brazen retail theft and sprawling tent cities.

    It took two days to determine a winner under San Francisco’s ranked-choice voting system, which allows voters to select multiple candidates by order of preference. The city uses a multiround process to count the ballots, and it can take several rounds of tallying before a winner receives more than 50% of the vote. Though thousands of votes remained uncounted Thursday evening, the gap of support between Lurie and his opponents was deemed too big to bridge.

    Lurie, a centrist Democrat, outpaced incumbent Mayor London Breed and three other prominent local Democrats, receiving 56.2% of the total ranked-choice vote compared with Breed’s 43.8% as of Thursday’s count.

    Board of Supervisors President Aaron Peskin, the only leading candidate running as an old-school progressive, came in third after being eliminated from the running with 21.6% of first-choice votes, and venture capitalist Mark Farrell, a moderate, trailed in fourth place. Supervisor Ahsha Safaí was knocked out of the running early after getting just 2.7% of first-choice votes.

    Lurie issued a brief statement on social media Thursday night thanking supporters. In an election night event Tuesday, he summarized his leadership vision for jubilant supporters gathered at a music venue in the Mission district to cheer him on.

    “Our challenge and opportunity is to show how government can deliver on its promise of a safer and more affordable city,” Lurie said. “And executing on these promises requires us to be courageous, compassionate and honest.

    “It’s never been more clear to me that so many people love this city, and it’s time for us to start making people feel like the city loves them back.”

    In a statement posted on social media Thursday evening, Breed said she had called Lurie to congratulate him.

    “Being mayor of San Francisco has been the greatest honor of my lifetime. I’m beyond grateful to our residents for the opportunity to serve the City that raised me,” Breed wrote. “During my final two months as your mayor, I will continue to lead this City as I have from Day One — as San Francisco’s biggest champion.”

    The transition from Breed to Lurie is a remarkable turn on many fronts.

    Breed, 50, made history six years ago when she became the city’s first Black female mayor. She was born into poverty in the Western Addition, at the time one of San Francisco’s toughest neighborhoods, and raised by her grandmother. She lost a sister to a drug overdose and has a brother in prison for robbery. Before being elected mayor, she was president of the powerful Board of Supervisors.

    Lurie, 47, was also born in San Francisco, the son of a rabbi. His parents divorced when he was a young boy, and his mother, Miriam Haas, went on to marry Peter Haas, who helped raise Lurie. Peter Haas, now deceased, was the great-grandnephew of the Levi’s founder and a longtime executive at the company. Lurie and his mother are among the primary heirs of the Levi Strauss family fortune. Lurie has never before held elected office.

    Throughout the campaign, Lurie distinguished himself as a political outsider running against four City Hall veterans. He pledged to root out government corruption, a concern among voters following a series of political scandals in city departments and nonprofits in recent years.

    The election was broadly viewed as a referendum on Breed’s efforts to address homeless encampments, crime and a flagging post-pandemic economy that cut at voters’ sense of a safe, well-functioning city.

    “This is not an election that was about an ideological or policy-based shift or rejection of Breed,” said Jason McDaniel, a political science professor at San Francisco State University. “It’s an outsider who is different and who was able to portray himself in that way as someone who will do things differently.”

    In a marked shift for San Francisco, the city’s wealthy tech sector played an influential role in this year’s race. Tech titans who have put down roots in the city poured millions of dollars into campaign contributions, pressing for an outcome that would infuse this famously liberal city with more centrist politics.

    That money overwhelmingly benefited Lurie, Farrell and Breed.

    “It’s been the billionaire election,” said Jim Ross, a veteran Bay Area Democratic strategist.

    San Francisco Mayor London Breed faced a tough reelection bid against four challengers who said she had not done enough to address property crime and homelessness in the city.

    (Eric Risberg / Associated Press)

    Breed was first elected in 2018, winning a special election after the unexpected death of then-Mayor Ed Lee. She led the city through a challenging period that includes the unsettling early spread of COVID-19 and the subsequent exodus of scores of downtown tech workers who, amid pandemic-related shutdowns, found themselves able to work remotely — and more cheaply — from other cities.

    Breed has never been a bleeding-heart progressive, despite San Francisco’s liberal reputation. But the Breed of six years ago was more open to experimenting with a progressive reformist agenda when it came to solving complex issues such as addiction and poverty.

    In the last two years, by contrast, she has become a leading voice in a movement to crack down on homeless people and addicts who refuse shelter or treatment. And this year she successfully championed two local ballot measures that bolstered police surveillance powers and will require drug screening and treatment for people receiving county welfare benefits who are suspected of illicit drug use.

    Many of her supporters noted her quick action to shut down San Francisco in the early days of the COVID emergency, a decision credited with saving thousands of lives.

    In making her case for reelection, Breed touted recent data showing improvements in some of San Francisco’s greatest problems, notably a reduction in property crime and violent crime over the last year.

    Her opponents dismissed that progress as too little, too late, and seized on voter dissatisfaction to pitch themselves as more qualified alternatives.

    Both Lurie and Farrell promised a more concerted crackdown on crime and homelessness and to reinvigorate the downtown economy.

    Lurie had the advantage of his family’s vast wealth to strengthen his name recognition. He showered his campaign with more than $8 million of his own money. His mother contributed more than $1 million to an independent committee backing his mayoral bid.

    He showcased his role as founder of Tipping Point, a San Francisco nonprofit that funds efforts to lift people out of poverty, to highlight his commitment to solving intractable problems. He said the organization has funneled $500 million to Bay Area organizations focused on early childhood education, scholarships, housing and job training since its founding nearly two decades ago.

    Farrell entered the race with support generated during his seven years as a supervisor, and made the case that his blend of political and business experience made him most qualified to get San Francisco back on track. But his campaign floundered amid ethical concerns. This week, he agreed to pay a fine of $108,000 following an ethics investigation that determined he had illegally financed his mayoral campaign with money poured into a separate ballot measure committee he sponsored to reduce the number of government commissions in San Francisco.

    Peskin, a longtime supervisor, organized a robust grassroots campaign focused on traditional liberal ideals, such as making the city affordable for nurses, teachers, and the artists and bohemians who have long made San Francisco a creative hub.

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    Hannah Wiley

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  • Latest line: A good week for London Breed, a bad week for SunPower

    Latest line: A good week for London Breed, a bad week for SunPower

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    London Breed

    San Francisco mayor, facing a difficult re-election after years of homeless problems and retail stores closing, pulls to the lead in a new poll as she increases efforts to cut crime and remove encampments.

     

     

     

    SunPower

    Richmond-based solar company once worth $10 billion files for bankruptcy as inflation, high interest rates and state PUC regulators cutting incentives for property owners reduces demand for solar projects.

     

     

     

    Google

    A federal judge rules the Mountain View tech giant illegally monopolized online search and ad markets over the past decade. But we won’t know the penalty until a second trial plays out next year.

     

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    Bay Area News Group

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