unite

It wasn’t that long ago that campaign strategist Estevan Montemayor was an enthusiastic booster for Karen Bass.

During her first run for mayor in 2022, Montemayor was working with Communities United for Bass, a campaign committee that spent $6 million on television ads, text messages and other voter outreach efforts.

The 35-year-old political consultant took on another expensive outside campaign this year — this one to support Councilmember Nithya Raman and oppose Bass. Asked about the change in allegiances, he said he became disenchanted with the mayor over her handling of homelessness, the city budget and finally, the Palisades fire.

“That’s when I came to realize on a personal level that she was not capable of serving in an executive role,” Montemayor said.

Bass, a 22-year political veteran, spent much of her failed reelection campaign touting her ability to work with others. She locked down support from labor unions, business groups and immigration advocates. She frequently pointed out 14 members of the City Council lined up behind her and not for Raman, who won Tuesday’s election and will be sworn in next month.

Yet some of Bass’ political relationships disintegrated during her four-year term, at times in dramatic ways. Those key colleagues and supporters turned against her, then went on to help orchestrate her political demise.

Early on in Bass’ term, Los Angeles County Supervisor Lindsey Horvath supported the mayor’s work on homelessness and even introduced her at her State of the City address. But she eventually became one of Bass’ fiercest critics and, behind the scenes, encouraged Raman to run. Horvath publicly endorsed Raman two weeks before the election.

The Western States Regional Council of Carpenters put nearly $2.3 million into efforts to elect Bass four years ago, producing TV ads and campaign signs promoting her. This time around, the group sponsored a committee that spent five times that amount in support of Raman, posting content on the website “Burned by Bass.”

Then there’s Raman herself. The councilmember supported many of the mayor’s initiatives and campaigned with her while running for reelection in 2024. Even though she had endorsed Bass for mayor, she later launched her own last-minute mayoral bid, saying the city “can’t seem to manage the basics.”

Bass said she was blindsided.

“I didn’t have any reason to see it coming,” Bass replied when The Times asked about Raman’s decision to challenge her. “Why would I see it coming if somebody has publicly endorsed me?”

Supporters of Bass say that in some ways, she actually broadened her coalition this time around, drawing support from individuals and organizations who opposed her in 2022, including real estate developer Rick Caruso, her onetime opponent, and the Los Angeles Police Protective League.

Assemblymember Mark Gonzalez (D-Los Angeles), who endorsed Bass and campaigned with her, said it’s unfair to say that “because she lost a few friends, that that’s why she lost the race.”

“Losing the trust of her voters, that was the bigger loss,” Gonzalez said. “Voters basically did not feel that they were better off than they could have been or should have been.”

The opposition from Montemayor, the carpenters and other former supporters was just part of the struggle facing Bass as she waged her campaign. She had consistently high disapproval numbers that stemmed from key events during her administration.

The mayor faced voter outrage over the Palisades fire, which broke out in January 2025, destroying thousands of homes and leaving 12 people dead. Residents in Pacific Palisades voiced special fury that Bass left the country days earlier, as weather forecasts predicted dangerous winds and elevated fire conditions. But she also drew the ire of Boyle Heights residents exasperated over the noxious smells that lingered in the wake of a massive fire at a cold-storage warehouse.

Bass also attracted criticism over her handling of city spending — giving a series of raises to the workforce and then encountering a $1-billion shortfall, which led to the elimination of more than 1,500 vacant city jobs. One of those pay packages gave thousands of civilian city workers raises of about 24% over five years.

Then there was the mayor’s fight against homelessness. Bass made it a top priority from the outset, launching an expensive program to bring people indoors. By August, 42% of the program’s participants had returned to the street.

Bass declared a citywide emergency on homelessness on the day she took office, promising she would lock arms with the region’s political leaders, including the L.A. County Board of Supervisors.

Two years later, over Bass’ protest, the supervisors voted to pull nearly all of their money out of a joint city-county agency created to address the crisis.

Bass told The Times she was initially caught off guard by the supervisors’ proposal to remove the money and funnel it into a new county homelessness department.

Leading the charge was Horvath, who had served alongside Bass on regional homelessness boards. Horvath, appearing with Raman last month, dismissed the mayor’s messaging about relationship building, saying she “promised to lock arms but only demanded loyalty.”

On election night, Horvath said there wasn’t one specific moment when she turned against the mayor.

“I did put forward my best effort to build a relationship with the mayor. It wasn’t one issue,” she told The Times. “I mean, the truth is, this mayor has made clear she doesn’t respect the voices and perspectives of young people.”

Stuart Waldman, who heads the Los Angeles County Business Federation, offered a different take. He said Bass was good at cultivating relationships, meeting with business leaders and taking their calls. But in many instances, Bass would embrace a proposal only to have it languish in her office, he said.

“Bass would say she wanted to do something, and then it would end up in her staff’s hands and never see the light of day,” said Waldman, whose group supported Bass on Tuesday.

Last year, business leaders reached out to the mayor’s team to express their fears that the City Council’s plan to raise the minimum wage for hotel and airport workers to $30 per hour would wreak financial havoc on the city’s hospitality industry.

After the council approved the increases, those business leaders responded with a ballot proposal that sought to repeal the city’s business tax, which generates more than $800 million per year for city services. They used the measure as leverage to persuade the mayor and council to roll back the wage hike.

When Bass learned about the business tax repeal, she was “genuinely shocked at the depth of our frustration,” said Areen Ibranossian, a political strategist who represented hotels and airlines during the talks.

“It didn’t seem like she was aware of continued pleas from the business community on that issue,” he said.

Worried about losing the business tax and having to make huge cuts to city services, Bass and the council struck a deal to postpone the $30 wage hike by 18 months. Although business groups were pleased with the compromise, leaders of Unite Here Local 11, the hotel workers union, were furious.

The union, which supported Bass in 2022, endorsed Raman in August.

Kurt Petersen, co-president of Unite Here Local 11, cited the minimum wage rollback as one of the reasons his union abandoned Bass.

“She signed the law that took money out of people’s paychecks,” he said.

Petersen said his union knocked on 20,000 doors as part of Estamos Con Nithya, a pro-Raman campaign committee set up by the carpenters union. That group was also frustrated with Bass, saying she failed to require certain labor standards for construction workers in Executive Directive 1, her initiative to fast-track the construction of affordable housing.

“There were no labor standard requirements or worker protections in Karen Bass’s ED1, resulting in worker exploitation, including unpaid wages, cash pay, the use of unlicensed contractors, labor brokers and nonpayment of the LA city minimum wage,” said Pete Rodriguez, second general vice president with the United Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners, in a statement.

Alex Stack, a Bass spokesperson, said the requests being made by the carpenters would have driven up the cost of affordable housing production, while also slowing down approval at City Hall. A mayor’s job, he said, is to “do what’s right for all of Los Angeles, not just what group backs her.”

“She sat down with the Carpenters and Unite Here, listened, and made decisions that benefited L.A. — not just one particular group,” Stack said. “Nobody got everything they wanted. That’s what governing looks like.”

Montemayor, who had worked on the pro-Bass committee in 2022, supervised the carpenters’ campaign, spending nearly $12 million on efforts to promote Raman and tear down Bass. Prior to that, he had been Horvath’s chief of staff, overseeing the supervisor’s office during and after the Palisades fire.

In the wake of the disaster, tensions erupted between Horvath’s office and the mayor’s team. In a series of text messages, Horvath and Montemayor expressed frustration with Bass’ office over what they viewed as a lack of coordination and communication on the wildfire recovery efforts from City Hall.

At one point, Montemayor voiced irritation after the mayor’s team announced the removal of security checkpoints on Pacific Coast Highway, then reversed course amid an outcry. “What you have done is create more chaos not less,” Montemayor wrote.

Earlier this year, hours after Raman announced her surprise campaign to unseat Bass, Montemayor posted an image from “Game of Thrones” on Instagram, one that serves as a shorthand for icy revenge: “Tell Cersei .. I want her to know it was me.”

On election night, when Bass was starting to trail Raman in the vote count, Montemayor posted the meme again.

The Dodgers lost four straight playoff games to the Milwaukee Brewers in a humiliating end to their season.

But this was worse.

Steve Hilton lost to Xavier Becerra in the race for governor before “Jeopardy” aired.

But this was worse.

President Trump lost early, late and often Tuesday night in the midterm elections.

In contests across the country — for governor, for Senate, for the House — he had told people to vote as if he was on the ballot.

They did, and Democrats ran the table, taking the House and then the Senate.

Trump lost big, inspected the wreckage, and claimed the problem was lousy candidates.

Has he lost a step? I would have expected him to say the election was stolen. All of the elections.

But maybe he realized that for all intents and purposes, his political career is over. Trump was trounced, the country triumphed, and the long national nightmare is over, but for the rest of his lame duck presidency.

I don’t think we were witnessing a national love affair with Democrats, nor do I think Tuesday night’s winning political party has all the answers on any of the day’s pressing matters. The Dems have their own problems, including an identity crisis and a shortage of bankable presidential prospects.

But the country’s voters signaled loud and clear that they’re tired of:

The lies.

The insults and name-calling.

The hatred.

The chaos.

The self-dealing.

The lack of civility.

The absence of humility.

Last week I turned on the news and saw Trump making fun of the name of newly elected Michigan Sen. Abdul El-Sayed, a Muslim.

An awful thing to see a president do, but here’s what’s worse:

I wasn’t surprised.

Then I saw him say at a political rally that he had looked at a man’s rear end, “and I’ve never done that before…Off the record, women, yes, men no, OK?”

Again, no surprise.

He once mocked the physical appearance of a female presidential primary foe, as well as the wife of a male foe, and insisted for years that the first Black president was secretly from Africa.

Trump had always been able to get away with this sort of numbskullery. His true believers were willing to put up with it as long as he seemed true to his promise of working on their behalf. Until they could no longer deny that he was only working on his own behalf.

The cryptocurrency profiteering. The bloody ballroom. The gold-plating of the White House.

All of it while working people, including staunch supporters, struggled to understand the goofball tariffs and wondered when the promise of lower grocery prices would be delivered.

Trump and the Republicans might have prevailed Tuesday night if not for the war in Iran, which everyone is still paying for at the gas pump. The president who promised we’d stay out of international conflicts went all in, for no good reason, then said it was over, we won, except that it’s not over, and we didn’t win.

And there’s no exit plan.

But so what?

It’s not like Trump is paying for gas. His golf cart is probably electric.

In the beginning, as a Republican populist who tapped into justifiable voter disapproval of Democratic leadership, Trump was onto something when he first ran for president. The scapegoating of immigrants was odious even then, but in 2016, at a Trump campaign rally in Arizona, I caught a glimpse of his appeal to adoring fans who cheered the presidential candidate’s vow to build a border wall, strengthen the military and make America great again. A struggling low-wage worker told me Trump was the best hope for a new day.

“We’re going to come back and rebuild our country,” Trump told the approving crowd that day in Arizona. “You will never be disappointed with me. … You are going to be so proud of your president.”

The act worked for way longer than I would have predicted. But 10 years later, and halfway through a second presidency, the gig is up. Voters said yes, they are disappointed, and no, they’re not so proud.

We thought we were having a mid-term election.

It turned out to be a political wake.

But also an awakening.

Red states voted for blue candidates in a nearly total Trump rebuke.

As I watched the returns Tuesday night, I thought about my daughter–an earth science grad student–and her generation. She’s 23, which means that for almost half her life, Trump has been a political force. Imagine being that young and living in a country that twice elected one of the most divisive and scabrous figures in history.

A man who attacked judges, invaded American cities, insisted ad nauseum that a lost election was stolen, pardoned the Jan. 6 barbarians, exonerated political donors and allies, called climate change a con job, gutted environmental protections and upended America’s global in scientific research.

It’s easy to understand why younger generations have lost faith in elections, both primary parties and the political/corporate establishment.

But on Tuesday, voters of all ages turned out and said enough already, in states red and blue.

The man who so bitterly divided us might ultimately have united us, at least for an evening.

That doesn’t mean that there is consensus on much of anything. Surely calamity awaits, just beyond the shadows, and new species of political trolls are being spawned as we live and breathe. But there was hope, on election night, in the collective declaration that we deserve and demand better.

Trump once said he was so popular and powerful, he could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue in New York, shoot somebody, and not lose any voters.

It might have been true once.

But he’s lost them now.

steve.lopez@latimes.com

Come Election Day, a Quaker leader will travel from the nation’s capital to her home state of Ohio. A Christian minister and a Jewish rabbi will stand vigil outside a polling place in Arizona. A Buddhist nun will offer support to voters in Wisconsin.

In battleground states across the country, these faith leaders and hundreds of their colleagues will assume the role of poll chaplains for one day. They will deploy to nine states — Arizona, Michigan, Georgia, Ohio, Pennsylvania, North Carolina, Wisconsin, Virginia and Texas — where contentious races are expected to raise political tensions.

Faiths United in Saving Democracy, a nonpartisan coalition of interfaith and secular partners, is helping to train and certify this volunteer force of clergy members and lay peacekeepers in time for the Nov. 3 elections.

They’ll wear identifying hats and vests, and stay outside the poll centers, with the goal of maintaining a calm, reassuring presence to encourage more voters to exercise their rights without fear or hesitation, said co-founder Barbara Williams-Skinner. As of Oct. 19, they’ve recruited 1,235 poll chaplains and peacekeepers, she said.

A non-partisan effort to take the fear out of voting

While the idea of poll chaplains has been around for several years, Williams-Skinner said “2026 is going to be different” because there is widespread concern that the presence of federal immigration agents could create a chilling effect.

“The fear is real,” she says, worrying that it could deter eligible voters in mixed-immigration-status families and communities of color. Department of Homeland Security officials have consistently said they have no plans to send immigration agents to the polls, although DHS Secretary Markwayne Mullin said they could show up for a specific reason, such as arresting someone if they have a warrant.

The coalition has offered training online and in person. Participants get information about immigrant rights, de-escalation techniques and phone numbers to call in tight situations, Williams-Skinner said.

The initiative, strongly rooted in the Black church, has expanded to include diverse faiths as well as non-religious people, she said.

“This is a movement built by unusual coalitions,” she said. “You have white, Mainline Protestants, Quakers, traditional Baptists, Black church leaders, imams, rabbis — all kinds of people who probably would not work together or haven’t worked together in the past.”

While most participating groups are moderate or progressive, Williams-Skinner says it is a strictly nonpartisan initiative.

“We don’t get hung up on who’s moderate or who’s conservative. People just need to be able to vote, unafraid,” she said.

Concerns about voter intimidation motivate chaplains

A Pew survey following the assassination of conservative activist Charlie Kirk in September 2025 showed 85% of Americans, across political lines, believe political violence is on the rise.

Polling places have been targeted by protesters in past elections. In 2022, members of a group claiming to monitor ballot drop boxes in Arizona were ordered to stay at least 250 feet away after voters complained about intimidation. In 2020, following Election Day, a crowd stormed a vote-counting center in Detroit, many incited by online conspiracy theories about election fraud.

As the mob banged on the center’s doors and windows, the Rev. Steve Bland was among several faith leaders who put their bodies between the building and the crowd. Bland, who leads Detroit’s Liberty Temple Baptist Church, is continuing that work as a poll chaplain.

The pastor says de-escalation often involves “using the right words to calm a situation” or giving intimidated voters the moral support and reassurance that they are safe to exercise their civic right. Bland said he did precisely that for an elderly, Black woman during a prior election.

“She left and came back with two of her grandsons who also voted,” he said. “Without that intervention, three people wouldn’t have voted that day.”

The Rev. Bankole Akinbinu, senior pastor of Baptist Grove Church in Raleigh, North Carolina, said training in conflict resolution and de-escalation has given him the confidence to serve as a poll chaplain. A millennial, he has sought to engage younger people by recruiting peacekeepers from college campuses.

His motivation comes from seeing voter suppression attempts in North Carolina and other states.

“I look at our forefathers and the struggle they had to endure to afford us the privilege of voting,” Akinbinu said. “I look at my children and the nation I want to hand them.”

Steven Huefner, deputy director of the Election Law Program at The Ohio State University, says poll chaplains might be able to calm the frayed nerves of a voting public that is constantly exposed to divisive rhetoric and news about political violence. While political violence has increased, he says, it’s not widespread.

“Election workers are well-trained and can run elections quite well,” he said.

Faith leaders have historically played the role of peacekeepers, said Wendy Cadge, professor of sociology at Bryn Mawr College in Pennsylvania and founder of the think tank Chaplaincy Innovation Lab.

And now chaplaincy — beyond traditional worship spaces — is attracting more clergy.

“People are feeling called to chaplaincy because they want to be with people in difficult times,” Cadge said. “They don’t want to worry about what color the carpet is in the church or if their youth programs are attracting enough people. It’s a different kind of work.”

Chaplains find inspiration in theology

Clergy deploying on Election Day say they are heeding a strong, faith-driven calling to serve as poll chaplains.

In Arizona, Rev. Katie Sexton, executive director of Arizona Faith Network, embraces the initiative as a way to reach across the political divide.

“The ballot box is a place where we’re all seen as equal,” she said, adding that it reflects the Christian belief that all humans are created in the image of God. “There is such power in that.”

On Oct. 6, Sexton and several others participated in a training session — one of the last before the midterms — at Temple Chai, a Reform synagogue in Scottsdale.

Rabbi Emily Segal, who leads the congregation, will be a poll chaplain for the first time next month. The work, she says, aligns with what the Torah and Talmud teach about a healthy and just society.

Throughout American history, interfaith coalitions have created powerful change and served as sources of inspiration, Segal said. “Any time we can come together with faith partners around our shared values for societal good is a real source of holiness for our community.”

Bridget Moix, a Quaker leader, will travel to her native Ohio on Election Day.

“In our faith tradition, we think about voting as a sacred act we want to protect,” she said.

For Reirin Gumbel, resident teacher at the Milwaukee Zen Center, it’ll be a third time, come November.

“As Buddhists, the Metta Sutra we chant says every being has the same rights, and that we should have compassion toward all,” she said.

Imam Mohammed Ali Elahi, spiritual leader of the Islamic House of Wisdom in Dearborn Heights, Michigan, is considering becoming a poll chaplain for the first time. In a highly contentious campaign in Elahi’s state, Abdul El-Sayed is the first Muslim Democratic candidate to run for a U.S. Senate seat.

The imam said he is tired of anti-Muslim vitriol that has surfaced ahead of the midterms.

“As interfaith clergy, we stand for principles not personalities,” he said. “The Quran tells us to stand for what’s right — truth, justice, peace, human rights and the dignity of human beings, whoever they may be.”

Bharath writes for the Associated Press.