Published in Capitol Weekly

As Super Tuesday dawns in the state with the greatest trove of convention delegates, members of California’s Democratic congressional delegation face an uncomfortable choice in backing Barack Obama or Hillary Clinton. Some have decided that making no endorsement at all is the better part of wisdom.

“I just didn’t see any reason, if my district is evenly divided between the candidates, for making half of my Democratic supporters mad at me,” said Rep. Pete Stark, D-Fremont, who has already cast his absentee ballot but will keep his vote private for now. “So I just thought that I would wait until Tuesday and see if there was a clear winner then.”

The topic is so sensitive that the question alone sends congressional aides running for cover, particularly those who work for freshmen facing tough or even possibly tough reelection bids in 2008. A spokesman for Tracy Rep. Jerry McNerney said the congressman, who unseated seven-term Republican incumbent Richard Pombo in 2006, has not expressed a preference for any presidential candidate and has no plans to do so. With registered Republicans outnumbering Democrats in the district 42 percent to 38 percent, McNerney is already walking a tightrope for reelection without choosing sides in the primary, a move that would also remind his constituents that he is in fact a Democrat.

McNerney is in good company. Of the 41 Democrats elected to their first House terms in 2006, 23 have thus far remained neutral. “They haven’t figured out who’s the most likely winner,” said Gary Jacobson, a political science professor at the University of California, San Diego. “And they want to be on the side of the winner.”

As Speaker of the House, Rep. Nancy Pelosi is officially above the fray, although her close ally Rep. George Miller of Martinez has endorsed Obama, a move widely regarded as a signal about where the Speaker’s sentiment lies. Rep. Mike Honda of San Jose, the vice chairman of the Democratic National Committee, also is neutral. Senators are even more cautious. Twenty-seven of the Senate’s 49 Democrats have yet to make an endorsement, California Sen. Barbara Boxer included. Boxer, who announced a year ago that she will seek reelection in 2010 and who has said she hopes to raise $20 million for her campaign, presumably needs to maintain good relations with contributors as well as other senators.

“If you’re in the Senate, you’re probably going to be working with at least one of them again when they don’t become president,” Jacobson said. “And that way you avoid the potential political problems in making enemies.” But the calculations can be very tricky. “A few of them are maybe speculating about cabinet appointments and don’t want to offend the potential winner,” Jacobson said.

Bay Area lawmakers are largely split. Sen. Dianne Feinstein was one of the earliest endorsements for the Clinton campaign. She is joined by Reps. Lynn Woolsey of Petaluma, Ellen Tauscher of Pleasanton, and Tom Lantos of San Mateo. “This is a very special moment for me because I have the opportunity to endorse the campaign of a U.S. Senator who I believe will be the first female president of the United States,” Feinstein said in a press release last July. “Hillary Clinton, I believe, has the experience, the heart, and the strength to be a great American president.”

Rep. Anna Eshoo, D-Atherton, waited until last week to announce her endorsement of Obama, joining Oakland’s Rep. Barbara Lee, Miller and Rep. Zoe Lofgren of San Jose. Like her colleagues, Eshoo emphasized the need for change as the reason for hopping on Obama’s bandwagon. “Barack Obama inspires me. He gives me hope,” Eshoo said in a press release Wednesday. “He challenges us to dream bigger and reach farther.” In Southern California, congressional endorsements are also split, sometimes between families. Rep. Linda Sanchez of Lakewood has endorsed Obama, while her sister Loretta, who represents the Anaheim area, a largely Latino district, has endorsed Clinton. Los Angeles Rep. Diane Watson, who was named an ambassador to Micronesia by President Bill Clinton, endorsed Hillary Clinton months ago.

Rep. Maxine Waters, also of Los Angeles, whose husband President Clinton named an ambassador to the Bahamas, made her endorsement of Clinton last week. “I know that I will have access for my constituents,” Waters told NPR’s Farai Chideya last week. “I need to be able to be a good advocate for them with someone who will understand, you know, my concrete proposals and be willing to engage me and talk with me and act on them.”

– Kim Geiger is a reporter for the California News Service, a project of the Graduate School of Journalism at UC Berkeley.

But when it comes to Alaska’s Democratic caucus, which closes at
12:30 a.m. EST, Todd says, “Good ‘ol Aaska shuts down its caucuses,
technically, on Feb. 6.”

No, Chuck.  In Alaska, where the voting is taking place, it is
technically still Feb. 5.

Then I moved from the East Coast to California and everything changed. I found myself voting on propositions most people have never heard of but become experts on once inside the voting booth. But that has turned out to be the simplest part of the process.

Today, near Berkeley’s campus for the much-hyped Super Tuesday, we had to actually be “taught” how to vote.

No fill in the bubbles. No check boxes. Instead, my neighbor turned voting instructor said I needed to “heavily but not too heavily” sketch a line that connected an arrow near the candidate of my choice. Use a black pen. Apply pressure but don’t underline. It felt like an art project.

She had to explain twice. I couldn’t hear her the first time because another assistant was screaming at the man in front of me. “You’re the one that needs the Libertarian ballot, right? Do we have a Libertarian ballot?”

A half hour later I left feeling vanquished. I’d contributed to something historic, had a say in my governmental leadership. And yes, I’d conquered the automated ballot box, even if it beeped at me more than the Libertarian when I entered my completed form.
Maybe my arrows were too dark.

POINT ARENA — Few of Mendocino County’s Manchester-Point Arena Band of Pomo Indians understand the raging debate that might decide their future.

But there’s one thing they do know: It’s all about money, and they probably won’t see any of it.

“It’s more money to the state of California, more money to their projects,” said tribal vice chair Rick Laiwa as he pointed out another house with cracked windowpanes and mold covering the bedroom walls. “Our roads are falling apart, and they are getting more money for their highways. These Indian gaming propositions are making it look like we’ve got to dig California out of the hole. That’s funny.”

About 400 Manchester-Point Arena Indians live on two plots of hilly land along the rugged Northern California coast. Their 500 acres — dotted with trailers and wind-battered wood houses — are separated by the Garcia River, which floods part of the year. The closest hospital is an hour and a half away and the biggest city, Santa Rosa, is a 2½-hour drive along Highway 1’s winding roads. Few jobs exist in this isolated coastal region besides grocery clerks or cattle farmers, and the nongaming tribe relie heavily on outside funds.

Laiwa fears his 1,000-member tribe will lose the $1.1 million it receives annually from gaming tribes if voters agree to back Propositions 94 to 97 on Feb. 5. The measures would allow four Southern California tribes to expand their casinos, add up to 17,000 slot machines, and steer more of the revenue to the state.

The Manchester-Point Arena Indians are caught in the fracas among gaming tribes with growing political clout in Sacramento, casino owners who fear competition, and a state government scrambling for even small chunks of extra money. Laiwa, who spends the week working construction in Redwood City three hours south, does not see his people represented on the slick television ads both the Yes and No sides have aired relentlessly in recent weeks.

Neither does Jeanne Logan, a 67-year-old grandmother who lives on the reservation with her family. “Big people are pushing money around,” she said. “They get everything, and we get nothing.”

Even the $1.1 million annual allotment barely covers expenses. The tribe has a community center but no employment training or after-school programs. It has relocated several families from dilapidated homes that no longer meet building codes. But Laiwa figures it will be several months before there is money to rebuild them. In the meantime, these families live in makeshift apartments on another part of the reservation.

“For (the gaming tribes) to even say they are giving housing and new schools, that’s a crock,” he said. “How’s it going to get better if we lose money?”

The tribe worries that gaming revenues once set aside for it would go directly to the state’s general fund if the measures are passed. But proponents say tribes like Laiwa’s would actually benefit from this arrangement because the state would ensure that the special revenue trust fund remains stabilized.

“It’s guaranteed for the first time ever,” said Roger Salazar, a spokesman for the Coalition to Protect California’s Budget and Economy, the “Yes” side that includes the Pechanga, Morongo, Sycuan and Agua Caliente gaming tribes involved in the deal.

“Before, there was the potential for shortfalls, but now the government code is very specific. If there is an insufficient amount in the trust fund, then the state will direct money to make sure there are enough resources for each tribe to get $1.1 million.”

But Laiwa and Nelson Pinola, the Manchester-Point Arena tribal chair, don’t know whether they can trust the state. When gaming tribes signed compacts with California in 1999, they agreed to pay $198 million in revenues to the 71 nongaming tribes through a revenue-sharing trust fund. But there was never enough, says Pinola, so gaming tribes started taking from a special distribution fund — originally set up for litigation, traffic and police fees — as a backfill. The new agreements would mean excess revenues go to the state’s general fund instead of the special distribution fund.

“The four big tribes and the state say they would take revenues back out to pay the trust fund, but we don’t believe there is legal language within the law that allows that to happen,” said Pinola. “As a result, small tribes like mine will be affected.”

The issue has divided California’s 108 tribes who traditionally avoid taking public stands against one another. At least 30 tribes who make up the California National Gaming Association have agreed to support these measures. But most of these tribes have existing casinos and are and therefore ineligible for the fund.

Gaming or nongaming, these intertribal tensions are no else’s business, said Wanda Balderama, the former tribal chair of the Hopland Band of Pomo Indians. About 400 members live an hour’s drive inland from Point Arena and have more than 500 slot machines in their casino. Hopland has not taken an official position on the issue.

“I don’t believe voters should have any say,” said Balderama. “It’s a tribe’s right to conduct their own business. We are our own government and should be treated as such instead of being put on the ballot.”

But California voters, including teacher and firefighter unions, have gotten involved in the debate because the deal would pump much-needed funds back into the state’s budget. The four gaming tribes would pay California 15 to 25 percent of their net revenue from the new machines.

The legislative analyst’s office estimates that the state would get $200 million annually over the next few years and in the “low- to mid-hundreds of millions” each year after that until the compacts expire in 2030. The governor signed the agreements last year, but the “No” side, labeling itself No on the Unfair Gambling Deals and led by two other gaming tribes, two racetrack owners and a hotel workers union, got enough signatures to place the measures on the Feb. 5 ballot.

For the Logan family, which has lived here for six generations, the outcome next week is almost irrelevant.

“People are confused and people are tired,” said Mary Logan as she grilled carne asada and nibbled homemade tortillas for a birthday celebration. Logan, 40, has been looking for a job for several months, and the $330 she receives monthly from the trust fund doesn’t go far in providing for four children.“Why even get involved?” she asked. “It’s not going to change. We can’t even get out of the rut we’re in.”

LOS ANGELES — Bill Clinton was planning to woo black voters in Central Los Angeles over the weekend from the pulpit of the influential First AME Church, for years a traditional stop for candidates. It’s a venue the former president knows well.

But it didn’t happen — because of a policy change made by the church that affects all candidates.

“The Clintons asked to come to church today,” First AME Pastor Dr. John J. Hunter told his congregation during his Sunday morning sermon, “but I said no.”

His comment drew applause from several hundred parishioners, many of whom had packed the church in previous years to hear from such politicians as Bill Clinton, Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger and numerous other contenders, black and white, looking for black votes.

Hunter, who has publicly endorsed Illinois Sen. Barack Obama for president, gave a sermon praising the Illinois senator for running a clean campaign in the South Carolina primary, and appeared critical of the tenor of the Clinton campaign in South Carolina. The congregation applauded at each mention of Obama, and broke into sustained applause when Hunter said, “The low road is treating people worse than they treat you. My brother Barack Obama took the high road in his victory speech in South Carolina last night.”

After the service, parishioner Tracy Littlejohn said the pastor wasn’t implying the Clintons weren’t welcome at First AME in his sermon. “Anybody who wants to can come to church here. The Clintons have deep ties to the African American community,” she said.

Rep. Diane Watson, a Hillary Clinton backer and California super delegate at the Democratic National Convention, said she told Clinton that the negative tone of her campaign against Obama in South Carolina could have repercussions in the California primary.

“I’ve had people tell me they would support Hillary until the attack,” Watson said. “I told her, ‘Don’t take South Central for granted.’”

Watson had arranged Sunday appearances at seven other African American churches for the former president. But the plan was scrapped, Watson said, when the Clinton campaign said both Clintons had “commitments to South Carolina” on Saturday. Hillary Clinton came in a distant second to Obama in Saturday’s South Carolina primary, and in fact left the state early to campaign in Tennessee. Tennessee is one of 24 states, including California, that will hold primaries or caucuses on Feb. 5.

African American voters account for roughly 7 percent of registered Democrats in California and are traditionally among the party’s most loyal voters. But there is concern among some of Hillary Clinton’s supporters that the tenor of her campaign, including remarks from her husband, has alienated some of those voters.

Hunter said First AME has changed its policy and is no longer allowing politicians to actively campaign from the pulpit. The same restriction would apply to Obama, he said.

The policy change came as a surprise to Hillary Clinton’s supporters.

Several churchgoers heading in and out of Sunday services in both Los Angeles’ wealthiest black enclaves and the working-class neighborhoods said the impact of the Clinton-Obama feud in South Carolina was hyped by the media and that they had backed Obama all along. They said they supported Obama for his optimism and his pledge to bring change to Washington.

“He is a fresh face,” Cima Lawson said before the service at Holman United Methodist Church, in Los Angeles’ West Adams district. “He is different from four years of Bush, eight years of Clinton, and another eight years of Bush.”

Michael Jones, president of the Crenshaw Chamber of Commerce, said support for Obama in the community was strong because he is offering a powerful message that transcends party and racial divides.

“Unlike other politicians, Obama represents what they want: hope,” he said. “Hope to change the status quo. Hope to transform the ruts we’ve been in politically. Hope to bring partisan laws across the aisles. Hope to get something done.”

But a Field Poll conducted during the week of Jan. 14–20 — prior to the South Carolina primary — showed Hillary Clinton leading Obama by 12 points among likely California voters, but she trailed him by more than 30 points among likely black voters.

Paul Gackle, a student, reports for the California News Service, a project of the Graduate School of Journalism at UC Berkeley.