WHAT'S UP, CALIFORNIA?

The Political Mind-set Is Unlike Any Other. Here's A Guide To Our Peculiar
State.

Vice President Al Gore may well carry California in November. He should,
based on the issues and his local help, if not his persona. He must,
because it's difficult to see how he can win the presidency otherwise. But
if he does carry the state, it certainly will not be because Californians
are inspired--flattered, thrilled--by the Democrats' holding their
convention in Los Angeles.

California voters are not impressed by political parties. We pretty much
ignore them--it's in our DNA. Gov. Gray Davis aptly sums up the California
attitude this way: "Go have your convention. We're going surfin'." Or
bicycling, backpacking, barbecuing--or making a buck.

To put this in historical perspective, the Democratic and Republican
parties each held three national conventions in California during the 20th
century. Only once (1956) did the convention nominee (Eisenhower) then
carry the state on Election Day. Among the losers was John F. Kennedy,
nominated in L.A. 40 years ago and narrowly beaten by home-grown Richard M.
Nixon.

Another thing delegates should bear in mind: Just because they're in L.A.
does not mean they've been to California. There are at least five
Californias, each with its own personality, physique and politics. L.A. is
merely the noisiest.

The state's unique diversity--along with its huge population (35 million)
and vastness (825 miles long)--tends to befuddle and intimidate politicians
from "back East," as we natives refer to everything beyond the Mississippi
River. "Bill Clinton was the first modern Democrat to understand the state
and know how to work it," notes Garry South, Gov. Davis' political
strategist. "The rest of these people have been drop-ins for photo ops."

One more point about California: It's earthquake country, politically as
well as geologically, and right now there are two large temblors rocking
the political landscape.

One is the rapidly growing Latino population, primarily Mexican immigrants.
In 1980, Latinos were 19% of the California population; today, they're
roughly 30%--and headed for nearly 50% by 2040. The epicenter of this quake
is Los Angeles, and it has Republicans everywhere shaking because when
Latinos vote, they've been voting staunchly Democrat--so far.

The other epicenter is the Silicon Valley, where dot-com techies are
prospering in a new California Gold Rush. They're buying political
influence with money--millions for ballot initiatives and campaign
contributions. And the billionaire CEOs are playing both sides of the
political fence.

The sophisticated techies--like California as a whole--tend to be fiscally
conservative and culturally liberal. But let's back up.

* * * TO GRASP CALIFORNIA'S PECULIAR POLITICS, ONE MUST HARK back 90 years.
That's when a San Francisco graft prosecutor named Hiram Johnson was
elected governor and gave us "reform." He and do-gooder Progressives
created the system of weak political parties, direct democracy and
relatively clean government that still prevails.

They enacted the initiative, referendum and recall that encourage
voters--and, increasingly, special interests--to bypass Sacramento and
exercise power directly at the ballot box.

Through ballot initiatives, voters have altered--or tried to, before being
overruled by courts--practically every conceivable public policy, from
property taxation to prison sentencing to services for illegal immigrants.
Monied interests have bankrolled initiatives to enact legislation
Sacramento never would have, due to timidity or good sense.

The early reformers weakened parties by making local elections nonpartisan.
They also created a "cross-filing" system that allowed state candidates to
seek any or all parties' nominations. Many candidates--including postwar
Republican Gov. Earl Warren--were nominated by voters of both major
parties. This lasted 46 years.

The original goal of the reformers was to crush a corrupt railroad machine.
But nearly a century after the rail barons were routed, Californians
continue to keep the parties and politicians at heel. Ten years ago, they
imposed term limits that weakened the Legislature by denying the lawmakers
enough time to build strong power bases.

In 1996, they voted overwhelmingly for an open primary system that included
a "blanket" ballot. This allowed them to hop from one race to another,
voting for any candidate, regardless of party. The state parties cried and
the U.S. Supreme Court listened, recently overruling the voters and siding
with the would-be political bosses. California's open primary violated the
1st Amendment "by forcing political parties to associate with those who do
not share their beliefs," the court opined.

"The court is 100% wrong," asserts Gov. Davis. "It's old-time thinking and
wrongheaded. It ignores the voters' interest. But it shows you the
difference between California and the rest of America. We believe in the
power of individuals. Others think the party's right of association is
paramount to an individual's right."

People are the parties, of course, but in increasingly declining numbers.
Since 1990, the Democratic Party's share of California voter registration
has dropped from about 50% to less than 46%. Republican registration has
fallen from 39% to 35%. The gain has been among "declined to state"
independents, up from 9% to about 14%.

Californians always have tended to be free agents. They may feel strongly
about issues--taxes, illegal immigration, the environment--even if they
don't care about politics or parties.

"I grew up in New York," Davis says, "and in the East, politics was almost
a blood sport. Cabdrivers, bartenders, normal citizens relished their
politics. In California, politics is like a disease. Nobody wants to catch it."

Blame--or credit--Hiram Johnson. But there's also an ingrained pioneer free
spirit that started with the Gold Rush and has continued through the Dust
Bowl Okies, Mexican migrants, Southeast Asian refugees and now the
fortune-seeking computer nerds. Washington is far away, physically and
psychologically.

Says Davis strategist South, a migrant from Midwest politics: "People come
here to redefine themselves, often from places with very partisan political
machines. They didn't like that particularly and don't want it replicated
here. They don't want precinct captains knocking on their doors, like in
Chicago or Boston."

* * * CALIFORNIA'S POLITICS IS A LOT LIKE ITS CLIMATE. IF YOU'RE
uncomfortable in one spot, just drive a few miles, usually east or west.

Indeed, climate seems to affect political philosophy. Living along the
placid coast, your thoughts are apt to be mellow. It's hard to get worked
up about some woman having an abortion or a guy's sexual proclivity. And
almost everyone's an environmentalist.

Tool over the coastal range into the San Joaquin Valley--into fertile farm
country, where men drive pickups with gun racks while listening to Rush
Limbaugh or George Strait, enduring oppressive heat in summer and
depressing tule fog in winter--and there's more anxiety about different
lifestyles. Irrigation also outranks protecting the environment.

One example of the coastal-inland philosophical split: In 1996, there was a
ballot initiative to legalize marijuana smoking for medicinal purposes. It
passed 56% to 44%. Voters in all seven San Joaquin Valley counties opposed
it, mostly by lopsided margins. But it carried in all 14 coastal counties
except two small ones. It even won in traditionally conservative Orange and
San Diego counties.

Consultants study the California "fish hook." It's a straight line down the
center of the state to the Mexican border, beginning near Shasta Lake and
continuing south through the 400-mile-long Central Valley and the
burgeoning Inland Empire. At the border, it hooks west to San Diego and
then north through Orange. The trick for Republican candidates is to win
enough votes in the fish hook to counter Democratic strength in Los Angeles
County and the San Francisco Bay Area. In the '90s, the only
top-of-the-ticket Republican to pull that off was Gov. Pete Wilson.

A more practical way to map California politically is to divide it into
five distinctive mini-states, starting with L.A. County, which produced 24%
of the vote in the 1998 gubernatorial election. States 2 through 5 include
the rest of Southern California (30%), the Central Valley (17%), the Bay
Area (14%) and the rest of the north (15%).

"Most people outside of California think of it in stereotypes," says
Democratic consultant Bill Carrick, who grew up in South Carolina and moved
to L.A. 12 years ago. "San Francisco is a 'hotbed of left-wing gay
politics.' Orange County is a 'bastion of hard right-wing conservatives.'
L.A.'s a 'huge polyglot of people coming up with a trendy idea a week.' "

Carrick pauses and adds: "There's truth to all those things . . . Every
kind of conceivable voter known to the United States exists here. It's like
putting a magnifying glass on the country."

San Francisco--the city, not the whole Bay Area--is California's great
exception. It's strongly labor, ultra-liberal, politically active and
machine-oriented.

State Librarian Kevin Starr, a fourth-generation Californian and noted
historian, explains why: During the Gold Rush, men abandoned San Francisco
for the mines, creating a labor shortage and giving root to powerful
unions. By the 1870s, the city had developed into a "maritime colony" of
the East.

"Maritime colonies tend to reproduce the host culture," Starr says. "People
get off the boat directly from Boston or New York and start acting like
they're still there."

The upshot of all of this is that candidates must run separate campaigns in
each mini-state. Campaigning in the Central Valley, Gov. Davis emphasized
his support of the death penalty while wearing a VFW cap. Along the coast,
he railed against assault weapons and talked up abortion rights.

It gets phenomenally expensive--$2.3 million for one statewide TV
advertising buy this fall. For that price, you can run a 30-second
commercial 10 times in each of the 12 TV markets.

In 1998, Davis donors coughed up $35 million to get him elected. latinos
are the future wild card. Will they continue to vote solidly Democratic?
(Latinos were 71% for Davis.) Or will they vote like, say, third-generation
Italians--as swing voters?

First, they have to vote.

They may be 30% of the California population, but Latinos accounted for
only 7% of the electorate in the March primary, according to The Times'
exit poll. That probably was an anomaly. Regardless, the Latinos' slice of
the electorate always has been significantly smaller than their population
numbers.

It was 13% in the 1998 general election, up from 8% in 1994--their
awakening year. That's when Gov. Wilson's boisterous support of an
anti-illegal immigration initiative--Proposition 187--jarred many Latinos
into citizenship and Democratic voter registration. Latinos now account for
16% of the state's registered voters and nearly half have signed up since
1994, according to the Field Institute.

In L.A. County, two-thirds of registered Latinos are Democrats, reports the
Tomas Rivera Policy Institute. And between 1994 and 1998, there was a 49%
increase in L.A. Latino voting.

Democrats skillfully demonized Wilson in Latino communities. "In Democratic
headquarters, I'm sure they're looking everywhere for a picture of George
Bush holding hands with Pete Wilson," says Claremont professor Harry
Pachon, president of the Rivera Institute. "All they've got to do is show
that picture out here."

But as memories of Wilson fade, GOP pols theorize that the Democrats' hold
on Latinos will wane.

Working against this, however, is the surge of Latinos who are joining
labor unions and becoming Democratic activists. "We've got this huge wage
gap. Latinos feel they're not getting their fair share," says Miguel
Contreras, head of the L.A. County Federation of Labor.

One note about Proposition 187: It passed by 59% to 41% and would pass
again today, Gov. Davis and most pols believe. Voters saw it as a matter of
fairness, not nativism. They didn't think it right that 100,000 immigrants
were sneaking in illegally every year--2.3 million are now here--and
costing state taxpayers $3.6 billion annually for services, including $2
billion for schooling.

"It's wrong to allow people to come freely across the border and take
advantage of public services," says Davis, although he opposed the
proposition. "Just as people have a right to protect their homes, nations
have a right to pass immigration laws and enforce them."

That was the message most voters were trying to send Washington. Wilson's
TV ads--"They keep coming"--just got too ugly.

* * * DEMOCRATS NOW DOMINATE IN California as they do in only one other
state: Hawaii. They control the governor's office, both legislative houses,
both U.S. Senate seats and the congressional delegation. Before Clinton, we
customarily were ticket-splitters who divided the offices between parties.

Clinton's centrism fit California, and our libertarian bent accommodated
his personal flaws. He worked the state hard, the first Democratic
presidential candidate--or president--to pay real attention to us. And,
except for the 1994 GOP rout, this tended to boost all Democratic candidates.

Clinton was the first Democrat since Lyndon B. Johnson--and only the second
since Harry S. Truman--to carry California. Crucial to that victory was a
vigorous new party chairman, housing developer Phil Angelides, who defied
conventional wisdom for this media-dependent state and built an enormous
ground organization of enthusiastic workers. In 1998, he was elected state
treasurer.

Now Angelides worries about party apathy. "When you're an out-of-power
insurgency, you're on your toes," he says. "When you become the governing
party, the risk is you let things slide. It's more difficult to retain
passion."

Especially--let's face it--for Al Gore. Gore's California tutors are Davis
and his expert political team. The candidate's support for abortion rights,
gun control and environmental protection--in contrast to Bush--are
California winners.

But politics here is cyclical. And to paraphrase Davis about Californians'
"going surfin' " during the convention, they're also inclined to party
surf, as if operating a TV remote. They'll stick with one party for a
while, then switch to another--and maybe (Gore's fear) even click to a
third. Ralph Nader's. - - -

George Skelton Is a Times Political Columnist Based in Sacramento