There will be no Charlie Kirk highway in his home state of Arizona. The reason: politics.
Exactly whose politics is to blame has become a point of debate.
Kirk, the conservative activist known for his campus debates, was assassinated last year during an event at Utah Valley University. Republicans in Arizona, where Kirk’s Turning Point USA organization is based, passed legislation attempting to add Kirk’s name to Loop 202, a highway circling through the sprawling Phoenix area.
Democratic Gov. Katie Hobbs vetoed it on Friday.
In a veto message to state lawmakers, Hobbs denounced political violence but suggested that Republicans had inappropriately injected politics into a decision rightly left to a state board that names historic highways.
“I will continue working toward solutions that bring people together, but this bill falls short of that standard by inserting politics into a function of government that should remain nonpartisan,” Hobbs wrote.
Republican state Senate President Warren Petersen, who sponsored the legislation, said it was Hobbs who practiced politics by breaking with “a long-standing Arizona tradition” of recognizing people who made an impact on society.
The veto “tells people that recognition now depends on political alignment, not contribution,” Petersen said in a statement. “That’s not how Arizona has ever approached these decisions, and it’s a disappointing shift for our state.”
Lawmakers in more than 20 states have introduced over five dozen bills seeking to honor Kirk, according to an Associated Press analysis using the bill-tracking software Plural. Many propose naming things after Kirk or creating an official day of remembrance. Others invoke Kirk’s name for measures that would protect free speech rights on college campuses or encourage schools to teach about the role of Judeo-Christian values in American history.
Arizona and Florida were among the first states to give final approval to Kirk-inspired legislation.
Republican Florida Gov. Ron DeSantis has yet to act on a bill that would designate a road in Miami-Dade County as “Charlie Kirk Memorial Avenue” while also designating a road in Broward County as “President Donald J. Trump Boulevard.”
ABOARD THE CRESCENT — There’s something melodic about watching the sun rise over a rural stillness broken only by the rhythms of steel wheels on tracks. Or so we tell ourselves.
In this case, being aboard a train at all owed more to politics than poetry.
Congress and President Trump were mired in their latest budget stalemate, one rooted in his immigration crackdown and the tactics of federal forces he has sent to U.S. cities. But this impasse has upended a foundational constant of American life today: easy air travel.
In Atlanta, my hometown airport, cheerfully marketed as the world’s busiest, had descended into organized chaos. Unpaid federal employees called out from work, leaving a diminished security staff to screen travelers frustrated by hours-long waits in line. I wanted to get to Washington for the NCAA basketball tournament. So I eliminated the risk of a missed flight and booked the train overnight and into game day across a 650-mile route.
In this fraught moment in U.S. politics, I slowed down and thought about things we take for granted. Who ever ponders the conveniences of that 20th century innovation, the airplane, that makes 21st century hustle possible? We book and board. An unconscious, first-world flex of modernity. It’s even rarer to grapple with the inconvenience.
My decision had taken me further back, to the 19th century and another defining innovation: the long-distance train.
A 14½-hour weekend train ride is time aplenty to appreciate how completely politics, economics, social strife and fights over identity and belonging have always affected the order of our lives, including how, when and where we move around in these United States. But Amtrak’s Crescent also allowed me to see the expanse of our collective experience.
I traversed the urban, suburban and rural breadth of East Coast America. I learned how other travelers came aboard. And in that, I found the portrait of people, past and present, who refuse to be as paralyzed as some of their elected leaders.
Convenience on the railways
There is little glamour late night in a crowded Amtrak station. Children are up past bedtime and tended by frazzled parents. Older adults struggle with luggage and stairs.
Airports are not red-carpet affairs either, of course. But there is a certain cache to Delta’s Atlanta-Washington flights. They typically take about two hours gate to gate. They often are slotted at a midpoint gate of the concourse nearest the main terminal. That is almost certainly a nod to members of Congress who use it, but who have lost some airline perks during this extended partial shutdown — which as of Sunday is the longest government shutdown in U.S. history.
In normal circumstances I can get from my front porch to Capitol Hill or downtown in as little as 4½ hours. Security lines these days could at least double my overall air travel time.
The train is still longer, and time is money, we are taught. But certainty has value, too, even if it means an 11:29 p.m. departure. And at the Amtrak station, there were no standstill lines, no Transportation Security Administration agents, no ICE agents as stand-ins.
Passengers who arrived mere minutes before departure made it on board and found seats quickly — assigned in boarding order, not predetermined zones that yield jammed aisles. There’s no in-seat service or satellite TV. But even coach seats, the lowest Amtrak tier, are as spacious as airline first-class — and there is Wi-Fi, so it’s not the 19th century or even 20th century after all.
On board, I heard one crew member joke, “I’m no TSA agent.”
The pathways of history
As a boy in rural Alabama, I counted train cars and wondered where they were headed. I’ve since read diary entries and letters from my grandmother and her sisters recounting World War II-era weekend trips to Atlanta.
The South’s largest city has a historical hook too. Originally named “Terminus,” Atlanta developed in the antebellum era as a critical intersection of north-south and east-west rail routes. That is what drew Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman for one of the Civil War’s seminal campaigns that helped defeat the Confederacy.
A century after the Civil War, Delta chose Atlanta for its headquarters rather than Birmingham, Ala., which was the larger city as of the 1960 census. The company’s decision was tied up in tax breaks for the airline, named for its crop duster origins in the Mississippi Delta region. According to some interpretations, Delta’s decision was made easier because of the more overt racism of Alabama’s and Birmingham’s leaders as they defended Jim Crow — a code that, among other acts, allowed states to segregate the passenger trains that predated Amtrak.
On this night, I heard many languages and accents, notable given the role that immigrant labor played in building the U.S. rail system and especially striking now with immigration — legal and illegal — at the forefront in Washington, my destination. I saw faces that reflected U.S. pluralism, a different mix from what my grandmother and aunts would have seen a lifetime ago.
The array of voices celebrated the freedom and ease of rail travel. So did Agatha Grimes and her friends after they boarded in Greensboro, N.C., as part of a long weekend trip to celebrate her 62nd birthday.
“I got stuck in the Atlanta airport last week,” Grimes said, as her group laughed together in the dining car. “It’s just nuts.”
Beretta Nunnally, a self-described “train veteran” who organized their trip, said, “There’s no worry about parking. No checking bags. You come to the station, you get where you‘re going, and you come home.”
An era for planes, trains and automobiles
Still, that is not as easy in the United States as it once was.
Just as politics, economics and subsidies helped expand U.S. railroads, those factors diminished the network as auto manufacturers, oil companies, road builders and, finally, airline manufacturers and airlines commanded favor from politicians and attention from consumers.
Riding hours across rural areas, I noticed the junkyards where kudzu and chain-link fencing framed rows of rusted automobiles. I saw the farmland and equipment that helps feed cities and the rest of the nation. I awoke to see the night lights of office towers in Charlotte, N.C., and its NFL stadium. I saw vibrant county seats — and I thought of countless other towns like them that are not thriving as they sit disconnected from passenger rail and far from the Eisenhower-era interstate system that we crossed multiple times on our way.
In each setting, voters — conservatives, liberals, the extremes and betweens — have chosen their representatives, senators and a president who now set the nation’s course.
When I arrived in Washington, I paused to enjoy Union Station’s grand hall and its Beaux Arts appeal, and I lamented how much splendor has been lost because so many striking U.S. terminals have been razed. I stepped outside and looked up at the Capitol dome.
While I had slept, the Senate managed a bipartisan deal to fund all of the Department of Homeland Security except immigration enforcement. As I continued northward, House Republican leaders rejected it. The stalemate continued.
The president, however, took executive action to pay TSA workers, and their paychecks may resume within days, though long airport lines may continue awhile longer.
I was a weary traveler but renewed citizen. I had a game to get to. And the train rolled on.
Perhaps it was predictable that reality TV would become a pipeline into American politics. After all, political theater was the ultimate unscripted spectacle before reality TV became a genre unto itself.
Consider the raw drama of the first televised presidential debate, where a sweaty Richard Nixon and confident John F. Kennedy traded barbs. Or Anita Hill’s should-have-been-damning testimony against then-Supreme Court justice candidate Clarence Thomas during Senate Judiciary Committee hearings in 1991. Or President George W. Bush’s 2003 “mission accomplished” speech from a carrier off the coast of California, mere weeks into a war in Iraq that lasted years.
Modern programmed reality TV isn’t political theater, but it has become a springboard into modern politics for some stars of the genre. From President Trump to Dr. Oz, Caitlyn Jenner to Sean Duffy, campaigns and political offices are littered with the names of former cast members from reality series. Here’s a list of the most memorable jumps from trash TV to the smoldering dumpster of 21st century politics.
Donald Trump, president of the United States, ’The Apprentice’
Before he was a two-time president of the United States, Trump was one of America’s most recognizable make-believe bosses thanks to his 14-season run on NBC’s reality competition “The Apprentice,” created by reality TV kingmaker Mark Burnett. With his practiced executive scowl and scripted boardroom catchphrase, “You’re fired!,” the show burnished his image as a decisive billionaire dealmaker, even as his real-life business results were far less impressive. Off camera, Trump’s businesses filed for Chapter 11 bankruptcy protection six times between 1991 and 2014. Never mind. It was his knack for showmanship, and his undying need for attention, that proved the perfect entry into post-decorum politics. How does pretending to be in charge on a middling reality competition qualify anyone to safely and successfully run the most powerful nation on Earth? It doesn’t. Sleep tight.
Sean Duffy, Transportation secretary, ’The Real World’ and ‘Road Rules: All Stars’
Sean Duffy first appeared on MTV’s “The Real World: Boston,” where he was introduced as a flirtatious, conservative lumberjack/student hybrid. In short, he was a casting director’s dream. He later joined “Road Rules: All Stars,” where he met his future wife Rachel Campos-Duffy. Trading hot tub confessionals for courtrooms, Duffy became a Wisconsin district attorney and then a congressman. By 2025, he’d risen to secretary of Transportation under Trump, completing a career arc from staged arguments with pretend roommates to heated exchanges with the press about the effects of a government shutdown on airport safety. Dude.
After a fiery confirmation hearing, Mullin is now Trump’s second secretary of Homeland Security in the 2.0 administration, following the disastrous tenure of wannabe reality show star Kristi Noem. Mullin was not a reality star per se, but in his role as a professional mixed martial arts (MMA) fighter he performed in cages for live, streaming and pay-per-view cable audiences. As an early 2000s champ in the sport, Mullin boasted an undefeated 5-0 record and the Oklahoma chapter of the National Wrestling Hall of Fame inducted him in 2016. How do these MMA skills, or his former life running the family plumbing business qualify him to protect the national security of this great nation? It’s unclear, but his fighting instincts have already resulted in a viral moment out of a 2023 Senate hearing, when he challenged Teamsters President Sean O’Brien to a physical fight, offering to “finish it here.” Now he’ll be running the DHS. What could go wrong?
Omarosa Manigault Newman, former assistant to Trump and director of communications for the office of public liaison, ‘The Apprentice’
Newman became one of reality television’s more memorable villains thanks to her run on “The Apprentice,” where her Machiavellian ways and unapologetic ambition revolted viewers and impressed her fake boss. She would eventually parlay that dubious notoriety into more than one role in the first Trump White House. Her tenure was brief, ending in a high-profile departure and her accusation that Trump is a “racist, a bigot and a misogynist.” She then wrote a book, “Unhinged: An Insider‘s Account of the Trump White House.” Perhaps she’ll adapt her written account into a reality show, only to reignite her fame and win the White House. From there? She’d hire Trump, of course, then swiftly end his run on the show with two simple words: “You’re Fired!”
Spencer Pratt, Los Angeles mayoral candidate, ‘The Hills’
Best known as one-half of reality TV’s most polarizing couple on “The Hills,” Pratt built a reputation as a needling instigator, often leaning into the role of villain with annoying enthusiasm. After stints on other reality shows such as “Big Brother U.K.,” he began speaking out about local California issues, including wildfire recovery and environmental policy. Earlier this year Pratt, a Republican, announced that he would be running for mayor of Los Angeles in the upcoming mayoral election, challenging incumbent Karen Bass. Does he really want to govern the Left Coast, or is his candidacy a ploy for a new reality show? Let’s hope it’s the latter.
Caitlyn Jenner, California gubernatorial candidate, ‘Keeping Up With the Kardashians’
An Olympic gold medalist long before reality TV fame, Jenner reentered public consciousness through a show about nothing. The hit series relaunched her into the spotlight as a member of one of America’s most visible families. Using that fame, she ran as a Republican in 2021 in California’s gubernatorial recall election, positioning herself as a political outsider. Her campaign leaned heavily on her life story — from her athletic achievement to her personal reinvention — but she failed to keep up with the competition.
Clay Aiken, U.S. congressional candidate, ‘American Idol’
Aiken rose to fame as the earnest, vocally gifted runner-up on “American Idol” circa 2003. His polite demeanor, impressive vocal range and dramatic rendition of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” earned him a devoted fanbase known as the “Claymates.” Aiken went on to have a semi-successful music career before running for Congress in North Carolina as a Democrat in 2014. Aiken made the mistake of leaning into his strengths as a thoughtful, policy-oriented candidate rather than relying on his past achievement as a vapid reality show contestant. He lost, of course.
Jim Bob Duggar, Arkansas state House representative and state Senate candidate, ’19 Kids and Counting’
As the patriarch of TLC’s “19 Kids and Counting,” Jim Bob Duggar became synonymous with a conservative Christian lifestyle when the show aired in 2008; it garnered high ratings and ran for 10 seasons. He espoused many of the same ideals as an elected official in the Arkansas House of Representatives from 1999 to 2003, before leaving the political stage for reality TV. But the show was canceled in 2015 when the Duggars’ eldest son, Josh, admitted to molesting several girls, some of whom were his sisters. A conviction on child pornography charges followed. (More recently, his brother Joseph was charged with child sex abuse.) Jim Bob Duggar attempted a political comeback in 2021 when he ran for a vacated seat in the Arkansas state Senate, leaning on what he believed was his reputation as an upstanding family man. Reality bit back, and he lost.
Mehmet Oz, U.S. Senate candidate and administrator of Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, ‘The Dr. Oz Show’
Like so many questionable figures Americans came to trust in the 2000s, Dr. Oz got his start as a frequent guest on “The Oprah Winfrey Show.” He went on to launch “The Dr. Oz Show,” where he dispensed health advice to millions of viewers. His blend of seemingly measured medical guidance and on-camera charisma appealed to viewers who were tired of looking at egg-headed doctors, like the kind who practice real medicine off screen. He announced his candidacy for the U.S. Senate in Pennsylvania as a Republican in 2021, focusing on an anti-establishment platform. He lost the general election to Democrat John Fetterman, but the doctor is still in. Trump appointed him administrator of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.
Sarah Palin, former Alaska governor and vice presidential nominee, ‘Sarah Palin’s Alaska’
File this under “Folks who tried to reinvent themselves on reality TV after tanking in politics.” Sarah Palin served as the ninth governor of Alaska before being selected as Sen. John McCain‘s running mate ahead of the 2008 presidential election. After losing to Barack Obama and Joe Biden, she veered away from politics, a decision that probably had nothing to do with an ethics scandal dubbed Troopergate that involved Palin. Burnett saw an opportunity, producing the 2010 TLC reality series “Sarah Palin’s Alaska.” It followed the Palin family engaging in activities such as fishing, prospecting for gold and camping in the region. In short, it looked like a tourism ad for Alaska and was canceled after one season. It also failed to kickstart her political career. She lost her 2022 bid for Alaska’s U.S. House seat, failing in both a special election and her general election comeback attempt. Apparently it isn’t Sarah Palin’s Alaska, after all.
Like millions of pop-culture-obsessed Americans, Howard Stern is bingeing FX’s “Love Story” and soaking up the nostalgia of ’90s-era New York, but unlike most of America, the radio host was buddies with the series’ real-life stars, and even graced the cover of JFK Jr.’s George magazine.
“I had done the cover for George magazine,” Stern said on his eponymous SiriusXM radio show Monday. “So I knew John Kennedy Jr., and he actually showed up to the shoot. It’s one of the worst covers I ever did. And I’ve done a lot of bad ones.”
John F. Kennedy Jr. launched George magazine alongside his partner, Michael J. Berman, in September 1995. With the tagline “Not Just Politics as Usual,” the magazine married pop culture and politics in an unprecedented way and aimed to flip the script on mainstream political discourse. The covers were legendary in their own right and featured supermodels, rock stars, Oscar winners and action film stars dressed up as the nation’s first president.
And, of course, radio jokester and provocateur Stern.
“They convinced me to be chopping down a cherry tree with a chainsaw, dressed up in colonial garb, dressed up, like, I guess I was supposed to be George Washington, but George Washington didn’t wear the s— I was wearing,” he continued.
“It was 100 years ago, and I remember I wasn’t doing a lot of magazine covers by choice,” Stern said.
When John Kennedy Jr., whom Stern described as “literally American royalty and the nicest guy in the world,” asked him to pose for the cover of the April/May 1996 issue, themed “The Virtue Issue,” Stern told his agent, “Of course I’ll do it.”
“I went down there, and they were like, ‘It’s George magazine. We have a theme cover. You can’t be in your regular clothes. We want you to be, like, George Washington,” he continued. “They must have caught me on the right day, because I was incredibly amenable. Normally, I would have gone, ‘I’m not wearing this s—.’”
Stern said he got the full supermodel treatment. “You know what John and the photographer did, that thing that they do to supermodels, ‘Gorgeous! You look great! Oh, man, this is the greatest cover. This is our best cover!’ They’re yelling while the guy’s clicking away, and I’m posing like I’m Cindy Crawford, like I’m one of the Hadid sisters,” he continues. “I’m standing there thinking I look handsome with my chainsaw and Louis the 14th [outfit.]”
After Stern went on dragging everything from the “pilgrim shoes” to the “poofy shirt” he wore for the shoot, he revealed that he actually knew Carolyn Bessette Kennedy as well, although he was a bit cagey about how exactly he knew her.
“She was very lovely,” he said. “She was a really nice woman. I don’t want to go into how I knew her, but I knew her.”
When Stern’s co-host, Robin Quivers, pushed him on why he couldn’t divulge how he knew the former Calvin Klein publicist, he said, “I just know enough to keep my mouth shut about that. Some stuff you do have to keep private. But anyway, I knew her. “
According to Disney, “Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette” is FX’s most-watched limited series ever on Hulu and Disney+, with reports that the first five episodes have been streamed more than 25 million hours since the Ryan Murphy series premiered in February.
The show, starring newcomer Paul Anthony Kelly as Kennedy and Sarah Pidgeon as Bessette, will air its finale Thursday.
Former L.A. mayor and current candidate for governor Antonio Villaraigosa wants voters to know that he navigated billion-dollar budgets, cracked down on violent crime and championed the expansion of bus and rail lines.
The onetime state Assembly speaker argues he’s the only Democratic candidate with the experience to do the complicated job of running California.
But Villaraigosa left City Hall in 2013 — eons ago in the world of politics. President Obama was still in office, singer Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” was atop the charts and Apple Watches weren’t yet a thing.
Because of his distance from elected office, combined with a decent but overshadowed fundraising effort, Villaraigosa lacks a high-profile platform to attract attention in today’s fractured media universe, an essential ingredient he needs to remind voters about his experience and accomplishments as mayor and a state lawmaker.
Antonio Villaraigosa gets his photo taken with students from Hazeltine Avenue Elementary School while visiting Placita Olvera in 2013.
(Irfan Khan / Los Angeles Times)
Recent polls show Villaraigosa, 73, wallowing at the bottom of the field, though none of the major Democratic candidates have an overwhelming edge.
Villaraigosa also ran for governor in 2018, coming in third in the primary election behind Democratic rival Gavin Newsom, who went on to win and is now serving his second term, and little-known Republican businessman John Cox.
Political strategist Mike Madrid, who worked for Villaraigosa on that campaign, said the former mayor’s absence from politics in recent years is a major liability in this race.
“He’s a dogged, determined candidate,” Madrid said. “But there are pretty stiff headwinds.”
Villaraigosa got a boost last week when the State Building and Construction Trades Council of California pledged $1 million to an outside committee supporting him.
His allies argue voters aren’t paying attention to the governor’s race because eyes are on President Trump, immigration raids and the Iran war.
But the new funding is a pittance compared to some of his rivals. Billionaire Tom Steyer is tapping tens of millions of his own money to pump out ads. Tech companies and billionaire Rick Caruso are supporting Matt Mahan, the mayor of San José, with millions.
Another contender, Rep. Eric Swalwell (D-Dublin), has the power of incumbency. Swalwell launched his campaign on “Jimmy Kimmel Live!” and is a regular on cable news shows, while former Orange County Rep. Katie Porter, who is also running, recently served in Congress and campaigned for the U.S. Senate two years ago.
With the June primary looming, Villaraigosa’s campaign risks sputtering out.
Angeleno Celine Mares holds a copy of Newsweek featuring newly elected Los Angeles Mayor Antonio Villaraigosa as he is sworn into office on the steps of City Hall July 1, 2005.
(David McNew / Getty Images)
Leaving a Compton church earlier this month, he reacted to Mahan’s support from technology companies, and the billionaire money in the race.
“When you have overwhelming sums of money influencing elections, there’s a great deal of concern for those of us who care about our democracy,” said Villaraigosa. “As much as they say it’s about free speech, it actually drowns out speech.”
(During his 2018 bid for governor, though, Villaraigosa was a major beneficiary of Californians using their wealth to wield political influence. Charter school backers, including Netflix co-founder Reed Hastings and philanthropist Eli Broad, spent around $23 million on efforts to boost his campaign. )
Earlier in the morning, he rallied runners at a 10K road race in L.A.’s Chinatown, lighting firecrackers, posing for photos and looking as energetic as when he was mayor and would dart into the street to personally fill potholes.
Villaraigosa flitted around the racers’ VIP tent, spotted a bowl of fortune cookies and made a beeline. “You have an active mind and a keen imagination,” he read aloud.
“Antonio V.!” a middle-aged man called out as the former mayor passed.
Minutes later, Villaraigosa swapped his black and white Veja sneakers and jeans for dress shoes and a suit for the church service in Compton, at which an overwhelmingly Black audience gave him a warm reception.
Building a coalition of Black and Latino voters helped him win the 2005 L.A. mayor’s race in a dramatic upset of then-Mayor Jim Hahn, and brought wide attention to the one-time high school dropout, who was raised by a single mother on Los Angeles’ eastside.
Newsweek magazine featured Villaraigosa on its cover with the headline, “Latino Power: L.A.’s New Mayor and How Hispanics will change American Politics.”
But national acclaim can be fleeting. Today, voters aren’t as interested in identity-based politics, said Fernando Guerra, a professor of political science at Loyola Marymount University who has known Villaraigosa for decades.
Guerra said Villaraigosa is struggling to differentiate himself in the race because his pitch to voters is not unlike the moderate path taken by Mahan. Another contender, former Health and Human Services Secretary Xavier Becerra, overlaps with Villaraigosa when it comes to biographical details: Both are from the L.A. area, Latino and relatively close in age.
“What’s made it so difficult is that [Villaraigosa said], ‘Here’s my path,’” said Guerra. “Well, guess what, there are one to two more candidates who are also on that path.”
Strategist Madrid questioned whether voters even want to hear about a candidate’s experience at a time when anti-Trump messages rally Californians. “They want a fighter,” he said.
Since leaving the mayor’s office, Villaraigosa has enjoyed success in the lucrative private sector. He purchased a $3.3 million home in the L.A. neighborhood of Beverly Hills Post Office in 2020. . A recent campaign filing shows he’s spent the last few years advising companies including the health company AltaMed, financial lender Change Company and crypto currency exchange Coinbase Global.
Then mayor Antonio Villaraigosa holds a news conference at the Department of Water and Power on Hope Street July 22, 2005, urging all of Los Angeles to conserve energy in an effort to ensure Southern California avoids blackouts.
(Ken Hively / Los Angeles Times)
He also worked for a few years for consulting firm Actum and briefly advised the Newsom administration on infrastructure projects.
“It’s not that I didn’t like the public sector,” said Villaraigosa, explaining his decision to run again. As he talked about his desire to serve, he cast a gauzy image of the aughts in Los Angeles, taking credit for the downtown resurgence, skyline full of construction cranes and fewer homeless people on the streets during that period.
“Most people look back on those years and say they were some of the best years we’ve had in the last 25 — at least,” said Villaraigosa.
Stuart Waldman, president of the business group Valley Industry and Commerce Assn., argues Villaraigosa’s experience in the private sector and distance from elected office is a good thing.
“Look at what the economy was like, look at what the city was like” under Villaraigosa, said Waldman. “That’s what he’s going to be judged on.”
Villaraigosa started his career working for labor and civil rights groups before entering politics. Elected to the state Assembly in 1994, he pushed legislation that banned assault weapons and created healthcare coverage for children. His outgoing personality established him as a coveted fundraiser for Democrats in Sacramento and paved the way for him to be chosen as Assembly speaker.
As L.A. mayor, he brought down gang crime through a program that used former gang members to broker truces. Voters backed his ballot measure to expand L.A.’s transit system through new sales tax money in the middle of the Great Recession. He drove down pension costs after a bruising battle with city unions. At the same time, he established himself as a national leader on climate issues and education.
His reputation took a hit after an affair with a television reporter led to the breakup of his marriage.
The media scene that covered Villaraigosa back then is vastly diminished, with young people now getting news from TikTok videos, message boards or Instagram posts.
Weighing in on recent TV news layoffs in Los Angeles, Villaraigosa called himself “lucky” that there were plenty of newspaper and television reporters covering him as mayor, recalling that he’d get a dozen cameras to his press conferences.
Asked to compare his 2018 campaign for governor with this one, he said, “I didn’t have to reintroduce myself last time in quite the way I’ve had to this time.”
Villaraigosa spent a significant time in Mexico in recent years to see his now ex-wife Patricia Govea, a clothing designer. “She was in Mexico 80% of the time, the last six years. So I` went to Mexico a lot.” The pair’s divorce was finalized last year.
During a debate in front of Jewish voters on L.A.’s westside last month, Villaraigosa appeared to seize on the fact that he was the sole Angeleno on the stage, introducing himself by saying, “It’s good to be home.”
He told the crowd about his work as president of the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California and criticized UCLA — his alma matter — for its handling of incidents targeting Jewish students on its campus.
It remains to be seen if he’ll have a hometown advantage. In the 2018 race for governor, Newsom won more votes than Villaraigosa in Los Angeles County. While Villaraigosa did well in Latino communities in central L.A. and on the Eastside, Newsom captured more votes in wealthier, whiter areas.
But at the Compton church, a security guard approached Villaraigosa and told him she’d worked on his 2005 campaign, while others promised to vote for him.
“I know he has a track record,” said Valerie Bland, a 63-year-old former port worker from Long Beach, as she watched Villaraigosa work the pews. “I haven’t even looked at anyone else.”
Former Assembly speaker Fabian Núñez, a longtime friend of Villaraigosa and managing partner at Actum, hopes voters dig into Villaraigosa’s record.
“We have short-term memories in this country,” said Núñez.
