He groomed, hugged, shook hands and mingled with legends and politicians. Los Angeles City Councilman Kevin de Leon was in full campaign mode two days before Tuesday’s election, when voters will decide whether he deserves a second term.
The setting was not a restaurant or a neighborhood street. It was in the VIP section at the dedication of a towering mural set featuring the late Dodgers ace Fernando Valenzuela in Boyle Heights.
Kevin de Leon, wearing a blue Dodger jacket, and Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass attend a memorial service for late Dodgers pitcher Fernando Valenzuela in Boyle Heights on Sunday.
(Harry Howe/Getty Images)
Wearing a satin blue crew jacket, de Leon hosted a more than hour-long program that was attended by hundreds of baseball fans. Outside the fenced-in area where he held court, workers wearing neon yellow vests that read “Kevin de Leon Cleaner” handed out bottles of water. A nearby electric truck had a legend written in Spanish that read, “Courtesy of City Councilman Kevin de Leon.”
He led chants and jokes and introduced a parade of speakers including City Councilwoman Monica Rodriguez, actor Edward James Olmos, East Los Angeles Community Corporation President Monica Mejia, and playwright Josefina. She thanked him for spearheading the creation of the mural, along with Lopez and artist Robert Vargas. .
For de Leon, that wasn’t enough recognition. Just before a giant tarp fell to reveal one of the murals, he told the crowd that what they were about to see was “my gift to you, to the people of Boyle Heights, to the people of Los Angeles.” .
I watched from a distance with a mixture of pity and disgust. De Leon’s East Side neighborhood also included Boyle Heights, so it was no surprise that de Leon was there. But I think he has enough time to say a few words and sit down like any other dignitary, not to force a mock rally out of a ceremony to honor a recently deceased icon. I thought it was sensible.
Arrogance was a driving force in de Leon’s 18-year political career. The son of Guatemalan immigrants rose from a poor upbringing in San Diego, to community work in Los Angeles, to serving in the House of Representatives and state senator in Sacramento, before arriving at City Hall in 2020. Along the way, he gained more enemies, but also more supporters. He is portrayed as a Dickensian hero who is willing to fight for the poorest of the poor.
Kevin de Leon, then a state senator, ran for Senate in 2018 but lost to incumbent Dianne Feinstein.
(Mark J. Terrill/Associated Press)
His arrogance was also his downfall. On Friday, Mr. de Leon conceded a historic defeat to his opponent, tenant rights attorney Isabel Jurado, in a move that will be felt for many years in Los Angeles politics.
“While the results of this election did not go our way, I respect the decisions of the voters and our democratic process,” de Leon said on Instagram. He congratulated Jurado on “a successful campaign” and wished her “success in moving the district forward.” This was in stark contrast to her campaign, in which she and her surrogates portrayed her as a dangerous socialist unfit for public office.
De León plans how others will ridicule Oaxacans, bash political opponents, and check black political power in Los Angeles to ensure the expansion of Latino power. He never recovered from his role in the 2022 city hall audio leak incident, which he laughed at.
Mr. de León continued to serve in Congress despite repeated calls to resign and stood for re-election despite warnings that he would not be able to win.
His defeat will cause further gnashing of teeth among the region’s Latino political class, which already viewed Jurado’s rise as tantamount to a civil rights violation. The political novice becomes the first Filipino-American congressman.
Protesters demand Kevin de Leon’s resignation at 2022 Los Angeles City Council meeting.
(Ringo H.W. Chiu/Associated Press)
Latinos make up nearly half of L.A.’s population, but after de Leon’s resignation, they will only hold four seats on the 15-member City Council. Having a non-Latino represent the East Side, the birthplace of Latino politics in the city for the first time in nearly 40 years, is particularly upsetting to some East Side residents, especially politicians.
Even before the victory of Jurado, California Atty. Gen. Rob Bonta’s legal team has questioned whether the council’s district map adequately represents Latino residents, and has identified two East Side neighborhoods, including the De Leon neighborhood, as areas of potential concern. sources told my colleagues Dave Zahnizer and Dakota Smith.
But what De León’s supporters don’t understand is that the Latin Power strategy that has long fueled Eastside politics is over, and their campaign proved it. In the wake of the audio leak scandal, the incumbent wrapped himself in Latin like a tamale in a corn husk, and still lost.
In 2022, then-Los Angeles mayoral candidate Kevin de Leon toured the Olive Fresh Garden Marketplace in North Hollywood.
(Wally Scully/Los Angeles Times)
His office sponsored a World Cup finals viewing party at Pershing Square and continued to hand out free food to residents of predominantly Latino neighborhoods. In a debate at Mission Dolores last month, Mr. de León spoke almost exclusively in Spanish and continued to refer to his voters as nuestra gente (our people), saying that Mr. Jurado never ignored Latinos and their needs. I hinted that I didn’t understand.
A Spanish-language radio ad paid for by the Latino Victory Fund referred to the city councilman as Her Melo Melo, or Big Boss Man. A series of mailers designed to look like cartoons feature mariachi musicians holding signs that say “Kevin De Leon Re-Elected,” a cartoon city councilman catching a copper wire thief, and others. He was pictured cleaning up graffiti and carrying boxes for homeless people moving into apartments. In another email, Mr. de Leon posed with firefighters in front of the iconic Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe at the Ramona Gardens apartment complex in Boyle Heights and spoke to voters at Plaza Mariachi.
Other mailers funded by political action committees have described de Leon as someone who “wants to preserve Latino culture,” a “defender of our community,” and a “strong member of the Greatest Generation.” He promoted himself as a symbol of Latin leadership. A text message from de León’s campaign included a grainy photo of Jurado and warned that “40 years of Latino representation is under threat.”
De Leon even received support beyond the grave from his predecessor on the council, East Side political titan Richard Alatorre. The mail included a letter in Spanish from Mr. Alatorre’s widow, Angie, which revealed that Mr. Richard supported Mr. de Leon’s election campaign, stating, “I hope that Latino leadership will continue.” We need to make sure that it remains important.”
None of this hispandering worked. While De León strengthens ethnic unity, Jurado and her team work with the daughter of an immigrant from Highland Park, a teenage mother on food stamps, and a woman with no legal status, who must live together. The focus was on the ground battle that ties together the adult stories that had never existed before. Her father is an East Side resident. She won easily, with the latest vote count giving her 56% to De Leon’s 44%.
It didn’t have to end like this. Had De León resigned or decided not to seek re-election in the wake of the audio leak, he would have walked away with egg on his face and a proud career of service to Latinos. It might have happened.
Kevin de Leon gestures near the statue of Our Lady of Sorrows during a discussion with Isabel Jurado at the Dolores Mission in Boyle Heights.
(Wally Scully/Los Angeles Times)
He was the architect of the massive march against Proposition 187 in 1994, a protest that spawned a generation of Latino activists and politicians. He was the first Latino state senate leader in 130 years and had enough political stature to make a serious run for the U.S. Senate and mayor of Los Angeles. He sponsored legislation to make California a sanctuary state and helped pass important legislation on climate change and clean energy.
These accomplishments will naturally form a large part of de Leon’s biography. But history will now also remember him as the Joe Biden of the East Side. He is a man who remained even after his term expired, ended his political career whining, and lost political power among his supporters because he refused to leave.
That was de Leon on display at the unveiling of a mural in Valenzuela. He remained on stage in the VIP section after the ceremony ended, chatting with Dodgers broadcast legend Jaime Jarrin and others, rather than joining the crowd.
Some supporters approached him for photos, but the councilman posed from the side of the barricade. It was as if he knew his time in power was coming to an end and wanted to enjoy the moment for as long as possible.
I was waiting to see if we could chat for a little while. After about 30 minutes I realized that wasn’t going to happen.
As I walked back to my car, I turned to look at De Leon one last time. His cleaners were sweeping trash from the road while their boss was speaking.
