california governor

SACRAMENTO — During the Los Angeles writers’ strike in 2023, Democratic Rep. Eric Swalwell wanted to reach out to his donors in Hollywood and ask what he could do to help them. But he didn’t have an easy way to find the screenwriters who backed his many campaigns.

So Swalwell and his congressional chief of staff launched an AI technology company that sifts and analyzes campaign fundraising data.

The company has since been used by dozens of political campaigns, including by Sen. Adam Schiff (D-Calif.) and Rep. Jimmy Gomez (D-Los Angeles). Even Swalwell’s current campaign for California governor hired the artificial intelligence company, called Findraiser.

But some details of Swalwell’s private venture remain unclear, including the company’s investors.

Craig Holman, a governmental ethics expert with the nonprofit consumer advocacy organization Public Citizen, said it’s common and legal for candidates to use their own businesses to promote their campaigns or the campaigns of others, as long as all business interactions are charged at market value.

He said Swalwell can talk about his business privately but cannot do so in relation to his role in Congress, to avoid running afoul of ethics rules barring using one’s position for personal monetary gain.

Holman called it “odd and politically unwise” that Swalwell’s business will not publicly disclose all of its investors.

Swalwell, who has represented Northern California in Congress since 2013, is among the top Democrats in the governor’s race, according to a recent poll, but thus far none of the candidates has a breakaway lead.

Findraiser is close to profitability, his onetime chief of staff, current campaign manager and Findraiser CEO Yardena Wolf said in a podcast interview that aired in October.

The company received more than $67,400 from congressional campaigns in the 2025-26 cycle, according to filings with the federal government.

Members of Congress are not barred from owning outside companies or accepting a small outside salary, with exceptions. Swalwell makes no income from the company, according to filings he has made with the state of California, though he could benefit if the company was ever sold.

“Findraiser is a platform like hundreds of other tools in the market that helps Democratic campaigns communicate more efficiently,” a Swalwell spokesperson said. “Congressman Swalwell and the Findraiser team consulted the House Committee on Ethics on the conception and implementation of the tool every step of the way.”

Still, it highlights how mixing public service and private business can raise ethics questions.

Wolf told The Times that none of Findraiser’s investors have business before Congress, but she declined to reveal the names of the backers.

The fair market value of Findraiser is between $100,001 and $1 million, according to campaign finance documents filed with the state this month.

Swalwell stated on the documents that he is a part owner. Besides the Congress member and Wolf, the other member of the company listed with the state is Paul Mandell, who runs an event business.

The company’s website boasts that it provides a “straightforward AI-powered chatbot that supercharges your fundraising database searches. This first-of-its-kind tool sits on top of your political fundraising database, allowing you to ask simple, intuitive questions and receive the results you need instantly.”

The website also contains testimonials, including from former Democratic National Committee Chair Jaime Harrison, who says Findraiser provides the AI technology that makes it “easier than ever for campaigns to connect with the right donors and raise what they need to win.”

The amount of money campaigns are paying to use Findraiser is nominal, federal campaign finance records show. During the 2025-26 cycle, Swalwell’s campaign for Congress reported paying Findraiser $6,630. His campaign for governor paid the company $975.

Wolf, in an interview with The Times, declined to provide details about the company’s staff or how much it charges customers.

In her interview with the political podcast “The Great Battlefield,” she recounted that the writers’ strike was the impetus for Findraiser and said Swalwell came up with the name.

She conceded that it is “pretty unusual” for a member of Congress to start a company with his chief of staff. She also said there was “a lot of ethics back and forth — of lawyers and all of that, to make sure that we were aboveboard and that everything is kosher.”

Among other things, Findraiser has helped Swalwell’s campaigns pull in more money, she said. For example, the campaign could identify donors who gave small amounts to Swalwell but larger checks to other politicians, Wolf said.

“We’ve been able to set up meetings with people like that, and they’ve increased their contributions.”

Aside from Wolf, one other staff member who works for both Swalwell’s campaign and his government office is also being paid via a contract to do digital work for Findraiser, Wolf confirmed.

Michael Beckel, director of money in politics reform at Issue One, a bipartisan advocacy group, said that although there is no prohibition on a member of Congress hiring his own company, voters may perceive an issue.

“Voters may see self-dealing as evidence that a candidate is prioritizing personal enrichment over public service, which damages confidence in elections and governmental institutions,” he said.

“If donors give money knowing it will personally benefit the candidate, that undermines the integrity of the political system.”

Swalwell’s campaign declined to respond to Beckel’s statements.

Wolf in her podcast interview last year said the business was “going really well.”

“We have PACs that use it. We have first-time candidates, as well as 20-year incumbents who are using it. We have congressional races and Senate races,” Wolf said.

Around 2024, the company began offering beta testing, she said.

“Obviously, both Eric’s and my network are people who are in the political space and just in our day to day, as we were talking to people, we had people say, ‘Well, I want to use it,’” Wolf said. “And so we had a group of people who ended up beta testing.”

A spokesperson for Swalwell’s campaign said that “Findraiser spread through word of mouth among campaigns across the country. Any decision by a campaign or candidate to utilize the tool is based on their choice and their organization’s strategic prioritization.”

The Times contacted 16 congressional campaigns that reported using Findraiser in recent federal filings. None would tell The Times how they came to hire the company.

Both Schiff and Gomez have endorsed Swalwell in his campaign for governor.

Schiff’s paid about $2,000 for two months of Findraiser services last year. However, Wolf, in her podcast interview, said Findraiser works with Schiff “a lot.”

Ian Mariani, a spokesperson for Schiff’s campaign, said the company “is one of many campaign vendors used by our team, and it helped us engage with several people.”

OAKLAND — Betty Yee knows what people are thinking. She’s heard what they’ve said and read the many emails she’s gotten.

The former state controller has been running for California governor longer than just about anybody in the cheek-by-jowl field. And yet the Democrat is bumping along near the bottom, a blip in polls and a laggard in the money chase.

But no, Yee said, she has no intention of quitting the race, as she’s been urged, and no fear that, by staying in, she’ll help two Republicans advance to November’s runoff, locking Democrats out of the governor’s office for the first time since George W. Bush was president.

“I just don’t see it,” Yee said, given the way Chad Bianco and Steve Hilton, the top GOP contenders, are smacking each other around, hoping to emerge as the undisputed Republican standard-bearer.

Beyond that, she said, it’s not as if anyone’s running away with the contest; most polls have shown the leading candidate — which depends on the survey — standing atop the pile with around 20% support.

That isn’t exactly landslide territory.

“The public is still shopping,” Yee said. “In the next month or so, we’re going to try to get [a TV ad] on the air, basically make our case and hope that can spread as voters are getting more focused on the race.”

Which is not to say Yee is delusional.

“As a candidate, I make that assessment every day about whether we’re going to be viable or not,” she said last week, just before stopping by the Alameda County voter registrar‘s office to file paperwork for the June 2 primary.

“Right now, it’s less than a 50-50 chance,” Yee said, suggesting it’s her job to boost those odds by getting voters to appreciate what she offers, which amounts to unvarnished talk about the challenges facing the next governor and the ways Sacramento — which has been run for years by fellow Democrats — isn’t working.

“ ‘Accountability’ has kind of become a dirty word … where it’s about who we’re going to throw under the bus, rather than stepping back and saying, ‘What have we gotten for the dollars that we spend and, if we’re not getting those outcomes, how do we do better?’ ”

Yee served two terms as controller, in effect the state’s chief financial officer, and 10 years before that on the Board of Equalization, which oversees property tax assessments. She’s isn’t trying to buy the governorship, like billionaire Tom Steyer, or leverage her political celebrity, like cable-TV fixtures Katie Porter and Eric Swalwell. Instead, Yee is running a grassroots campaign, visiting nearly all 58 California counties and holding as many face-to-face meetings as humanly possible.

“I’m in the trenches,” she said. “I knock on doors every election cycle because to me, that’s the reality check of where people really are in terms of their lives.”

Which is certainly an admirable approach, albeit a rather idealistic strategy in a state of nearly 23 million voters, spread over roughly 800 miles from north to south. It would take more than two years of round-the-clock campaigning just to give each and every one a quick handshake.

The most notable feature of Yee’s candidacy is her message. She’s not selling barn-burning populism or viral take-downs of President Trump — “I don’t have any gimmicks, I don’t swear, I don’t have a reality-TV show personality” — but rather practical know-how and a deep understanding of state government.

It’s almost quaint in today’s theatrical political environment.

Seated at a sidewalk table outside a coffee stand in downtown Oakland, Yee focused on California’s stretched-thin budget, which happens to be her area of expertise.

“People ask what would you do in your first days as governor, if you have the privilege of serving,” Yee said, as her butterscotch latte sat cooling. “I’d come clean with the voters about where we are fiscally.”

After years of surpluses, she said, the state is spending more than it can afford. Facing a structural deficit, the next governor will have to cut programs and raise taxes, not just one or the other, with corporations and California’s richest residents being forced to cough up more. (She’s dubious, however, of a proposed November ballot measure imposing a one-time 5% tax on billionaires, questioning whether it would stand up in court.)

Sacramento’s credibility, Yee suggested, is on the line.

Before any expansive new programs can be implemented — and she has some notions for how to make life more affordable, increase access to healthcare and create jobs — Californians have to be convinced their tax dollars are being well spent and delivering proven results. “I would really insist on and invite stricter accountability of what we do with our money,” Yee said.

She’s not beyond criticizing the current administration.

“I mean, I’ve been termed out as controller since January 2023. I still get calls from companies in the [European Union], Canada, even Mexico about how we want to do business with California. Who do we talk to?” Yee said. “So I’ll send them over to the governor’s Office of Business Development and they tell me, ‘Well, we try to call people, but nobody’s answering our call.’ ”

(In response, a spokesman for the Office of Business and Economic Development touted California as “a premier hub for international business” and described foreign trade and investment as major drivers of the state economy.)

As for Gov. Gavin Newsom, while she supports his teenaged trolling of Trump, she said it shouldn’t be done through official channels, , or on the taxpayers’ dime.

“We have to focus on making the state work,” Yee said, “and that’s where I’m more focused on because people … want service delivery. They want government to be responsive to their needs. Somebody just pick up the damn phone on the other line to help them.”

Tough medicine, as she described it, and “stabilization” — which is “kind of my theme” — won’t make a great many hearts go pit-a-pat. But Yee hopes that straight talk and her distinct lack of ornamentation will count for something with California voters.

“The climate now is that people are very drawn by the performative approaches,” she said. “However, I think that will change. I want to give [voters] credit, because I do think they are very discerning when they’re ready to mark their ballot.”

The coming weeks will test that premise. And Yee is staying put.

Antonio Villaraigosa is best known as the former mayor of Los Angeles. But that title will not be on the ballot when voters choose the next governor of California.

Instead, Villaraigosa will be listed as a “Public Policy Advisor,” a reference to his most recent profession.

The words that appear next to candidate names are governed by state regulations. Since Villaraigosa left office nearly five years ago, after serving from 2005 to 2013, he can’t use his mayoral title. He formed a public consulting firm that advised companies such as Herbalife, Banc of California and Cadiz from 2013 to last year.

Candidates spend time and often money on polling to determine a ballot title that paints them in the best light to voters while complying with the state’s regulations, even though in prominent races for governor or U.S. Senate, ballot designations aren’t typically a deciding factor.

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State Treasurer John Chiang’s campaign protested the designation. (He will be listed as “California State Treasurer” on the primary ballot.)

“Let’s be real, the only thing Antonio Villaraigosa can currently advise on is how to best target innocent Californians,” said Chiang’s spokesman, Fabien Levy, pointing to work Villaraigosa has done for Herbalife, Cadiz and Edelman.

Critics accuse Herbalife, a nutritional supplement company, of being a pyramid scheme. Cadiz is trying to pump groundwater out of the Mojave Desert and sell it to Los Angeles consumers, a project opposed by Sen. Dianne Feinstein (D-Calif.) and public lands advocates. Edelman is a public relations firm that counts oil-industry groups among its clients.

Levy said Chiang’s campaign has no plans to back up the rhetoric with a formal challenge to Villaraigosa’s ballot designation, but he left open the possibility of going to court later.

Ballot designation rules are so picayune that they dictate what types of punctuation are acceptable (commas, slashes and occasionally hyphens). Company names are verboten, as are words such as “reformer,” “activist,” “patriot” and “taxpayer.” The word “retired” cannot be abbreviated.

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That has left room for some colorful ballot designations, such as Mary Carey Cook, who was listed as an “Adult Film Actress,” and Kurt E. “Tachikaze” Rightmyer, who was listed as a “Middleweight Sumo Wrestler” in the 2003 recall election. Arnold Schwarzenegger, who was elected governor in that race, was listed as “Actor/Businessman.”

Some titles, such as businessman or teacher, are more popular than others, such as lawyer or the person’s political title in Congress or the Legislature.

In 2016, five congressional and legislative incumbents did not use their elected titles for ballot designations, including Rep. David Valadao. The Hanford Republican called himself a “Farmer/Small Businessman.”

In 2014, David Evans, an obscure Mojave Desert accountant who spent just $600 on his campaign to be California state controller nearly placed in the second spot in the primary. His ballot designation of “Chief Financial Officer” probably had something to do with it.

Eric Jaye, Villaraigosa’s political advisor, said that while the campaign considered other ballot designations, they went with “Public Policy Advisor” because it most accurately reflected Villaraigosa’s work after leaving City Hall.

“The company has advised a wide-range of for-profit and nonprofit companies around issues such as economic development, investment strategy, community reinvestment, healthcare, and education,” according to Villaraigosa’s filing documents. “As a public policy advisor, Mr. Villaraigosa guides clients through turning policies into action.”

Whether it matters is up for debate.

“How important ballot designations are diminishes the further up the ballot you go. So in the governor’s race, voters are going to have a wealth of information about the leading candidates from news coverage, from advertisements, etc.,” said GOP strategist Rob Stutzman. “Where ballot designations become important information is races where voters don’t know much else. Frankly, they’re most valuable at the sanitation and water district level, and then the value starts to decline the more you move up.”

seema.mehta@latimes.com

For the latest on national and California politics, follow @LATSeema on Twitter.

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After months of fretting, California Democratic leaders are now truly freaking out about too many of their own running for governor, potentially allowing two MAGA Republicans to advance to the general election.

Someone find me the world’s smallest violin.

It’s the latest mess created by a party that has held supermajorities in the state Legislature and the governor’s mansion for most of the last 15 years, yet has done little to make life better for its constituents while blaming President Trump for everything.

What does it say about them that no Democratic candidate of color is considered a favorite to succeed Gov. Gavin Newsom, when whites are only a third of California’s population? That a party casting itself as the champion of the working poor against Trump’s oligarchic reign isn’t telling a billionaire like Tom Steyer — who spent $341 million of his own money on a failed 2020 presidential run — to bow out and throw his support and moolah behind someone else, just because he’s polling in the top five?

California voters have made the state Republican Party as relevant as the Angels in baseball — yet under Democratic rule, life keeps getting harder for too many. Especially galling is how the state Democratic Party has done next to nothing to help Latinos become household names who can win.

Three Latinos with distinguished resumes — former Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa, former Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra and State Supt. of Public Instruction Tony Thurmond — are running for governor, yet they stand as much a chance of moving on to the general election as Alfred E. Neuman.

Latinos are a plurality of California’s population and the bedrock of the Democratic Party. Yet there’s a good chance that after November, no Latino will hold a statewide elected position for the first time since 2014.

Yes, Alex Padilla is our senior U.S. senator. But enough California Latino voters became disillusioned with the Democratic platform that Trump made large gains among them in 2024, and Latino GOP legislative candidates stormed Sacramento like never before.

So excuse my schadenfreude upon hearing earlier this week that California Democratic Party Chair Rusty Hicks wants low-polling candidates to drop out of the governor’s race, claiming in an open letter that their continued presence will “imperil” democracy.

Candidates are definitely choosing — to spite Hicks. We all should. He could have made his move long ago, as the top Democrat in the state. Instead, waiting until just before the candidate filing deadline is more amateur than a Little League game.

Worse, his move reeks of el dedazo, the kingmaking process under Mexico’s long-ruling Partido Revolucionario Institucional that translates as “the finger point,” because that’s how undemocratic it was.

“El dedazo is not appropriate in California,” Becerra told me, referring not to Hicks but to other Democrats who have suggested that he and others withdraw. “And I suspect that very few voters in California think that a variety of choices [for governor] is not a good thing.”

Candidate Xavier Becerra chats in a hallway during the California Democratic Party convention in San Francisco last month.

(Christina House / Los Angeles Times)

As of this columna’s publication, not only has no Democratic candidate dropped out, but most are officially filing papers to jump in. Thurmond even posted a video on social media implying that Hicks’ request is racist because almost all the potential spoilers are people of color, while the top three Democratic hopefuls — Rep. Eric Swalwell, Steyer and former Rep. Katie Porter — are white.

“To me, this act doesn’t reflect the Democratic Party of 2026,” Thurmond thundered. “Aren’t we supposed to be the party who embraces democracy?”

Hicks’ move and the embarrassing aftermath reminds me of Will Rogers’ famous quip that Democrats are members of no organized political party — even if I do understand why Hicks and other Dems are so nervous.

No Democrat is towering over the field, which is why party leaders and activists futilely tried to recruit big names like Padilla and former Vice President Kamala Harris. Those who are running are nice enough. But politically, they’re carbon copies of each other. As a group, they’re as inspiring as printer paper.

The subsequent free-for-all has allowed Republicans Steve Hilton and Chad Bianco to occupy two of the top three slots in the latest Public Policy Institute of California poll alongside Porter, with Swalwell and Steyer close behind.

No other candidate polled higher than 5%, but together, the rest of them added up to 30%. Factor in the 10% of voters who are undecided, and that’s a significant slab of the potential electorate. If just two Democrats drop out, that would almost certainly stop both Hilton and Bianco from advancing.

A Republican governor for California in the Trump era would be embarrassing, terrible and a political self-own without precedent. It would make previous California political earthquakes where conservatives pounced on liberal cluelessness, like Prop. 13, Prop. 187 and the Gray Davis recall, seem as innocuous as a bounce house.

But telling candidates to kill their campaigns to make it easier for people who supposedly have a better chance is the type of least-worst choice that Democratic leaders have forced upon party faithful for too long.

They need a rude awakening. Making them sweat about a gubernatorial primary is a start. That’s why I’m glad Hicks’ plea is going nowhere. If people want to scatter their votes, it’s not only their choice — it’s democracy.

When I asked Becerra if he or his fellow underdog Dems should accept responsibility if a Republican becomes California’s next governor, he brushed off the question.

“That’s more than speculative — it’s not going to happen,” he said, predicting that undecided voters will “crystallize” soon to make the issue moot. He once again joked that there are “too many dedazos in the air.”

Villaraigosa’s answer was more damning: “It would be a collective responsibility that as a party, we failed to convince the electorate.”

Watch out, Rusty — here come your Dems!

Gov. Gavin Newsom on Monday sharply criticized “fake MAGA-manufactured outrage” over his comments about his low SAT score in Atlanta Sunday during his national book tour.

Conservative commentators, Trump loyalists and right-wing media outlets accused the California governor and potential 2028 presidential candidate of disparaging Black Americans when he was discussing his struggles with dyslexia.

“First MAGA mocked his dyslexia and now they’re calling him racist for talking about his low SAT scores,” said Izzy Gardon, a spokesperson for Newsom, in a statement. “The governor has said this publicly for years — including with [the late conservative commentator] Charlie Kirk and dozens of other audiences.”

During a conversation with Atlanta Mayor Andre Dickens, who is a Black politician, Newsom was asked what he wanted the audience and readers to know about him. The governor, in a long-winded response, said he wasn’t trying to impress anyone, but “press upon you I’m like you.”

“I’m no better than you,” Newsom said. “I’m a 960 SAT guy.”

The governor continued to discuss his dyslexia and struggle to read.

Right-wing personalities pounced.

President Trump’s political operation accused Newsom of calling “black people dumb.” Former Fox News personality Megyn Kelly declared that the comment would “haunt him forever,” and Republican Sens. Tim Scott of South Carolina and Rick Scott of Florida belittled the governor. Rapper Nicki Minaj, an outspoken Trump supporter, criticized him too.

“@GavinNewsom Thinks a 960 SAT Makes Him ‘Like’ Black Americans. Let That Sink In,” Fox News commentator Sean Hannity posted on the social media platform X.

Newsom offered a profanity-laced retort to Hannity, accusing him of long ignoring President Trump’s racist remarks and social media posts, then feigning outrage at Newsom’s remarks.

“You didn’t give a shit about the President of the United States of America posting an ape video of President Obama or calling African nations shitholes — but you’re going to call me racist for talking about my lifelong struggle with dyslexia?” Newsom posted on X. “Spare me your fake fucking outrage, Sean.”

Gardon pointed out that Newsom was speaking to a mixed-race audience during the conversation with Dickens.

Dickens also rejected the allegations that Newsom was being racist.

“Take it from someone who was actually in the chair asking the questions: context matters more than a headline,” Dickens said on Instagram. “The conversation around his new book included him speaking about his own academic struggles, including not doing well on the SAT. That wasn’t an attack on anyone. It was a moment of vulnerability about his own journey.”

Sunday’s event wasn’t the first time Newsom has mentioned his SAT score. The governor has cited his performance on the test many times in conversations about his dyslexia and issues with self-esteem growing up, including during an interview with The Times about his new memoir “Young Man in a Hurry” earlier this month.

“Come on, I’m a 960 SAT guy, governor of the fourth largest economy in the world,” Newsom told The Times. “I’m a guy, you know, with sweaty hands as described in the book, you know, who can’t read a speech, and I’m governor. I’m talking to you. Come on, the whole thing is sort of fascinating.”

Newsom used the low score as an example of the grit and resilience he learned from his mother.

The governor is accustomed to sparring with Republicans on social media. Ring-wing furor over his remarks, whether justified or politically motivated, is likely to continue as he flirts with a 2028 presidential run.

“We’ve gotten so used to loud, chest-pounding politics that when someone speaks about shortcomings, people try to twist it into something else,” Dickens, said in his post on Instagram. “Let me be clear though. This is Atlanta. We don’t need anyone to tell us when to be offended. And history has shown… when we are, you’ll know.”