Political rivals but not true enemies
Even so, Bass and Caruso go into attack mode as the race for mayor heats up.
It’s no secret that many supporters of Rep. Karen Bass can’t stand Rick Caruso, or that a good deal of Caruso backers are equally not fond of Bass.
But an often overlooked facet of this year’s mayor’s race is the relationship between the candidates themselves. Caruso and Bass do not appear to dislike each other. Quite the opposite.
It would probably be an overstatement to say they were ever actually friends, unless we’re using the Washington definition of a “friend.” But powerful people tend to intersect with other powerful people, be they billionaire real estate developers or activist-turned-pragmatist government leaders. Particularly when they both care about bettering the same city. And that’s certainly been the case for Bass and Caruso.
The two have had a warm rapport over the years, as my colleague Ben Oreskes touched on in his excellent profile of Bass this year. Caruso has financially supported Bass in the past, delivering maximum contributions during both the primary and general election of her first run for Congress in 2010 and donating an additional $1,000 in 2011.
When Bass, an architect of the George Floyd Justice in Policing Act, was trying to
garner support for her bill in the House, Caruso was one of the surrogates she tapped for outreach to help lobby centrist members of the House.
The tenor of campaigning, however, has turned increasingly fetid in the full-tilt sprint toward Nov. 8. Which puts Caruso and Bass in an uncomfortable position: throwing knives toward and ducking blows from someone who is more frenemy than an actual foe.
Wednesday’s debate at the Skirball Cultural Center provided a potent illustration of that dynamic. Both candidates clearly showed up in the Sepulveda Pass ready for battle. But this was hardly the mutually assured loathing of, say, Joe Biden and Donald Trump on the vitriolic presidential debate stage in 2020.
Instead, Bass and Caruso seemed more like two people who had tacitly agreed that, well, we’ve reached the part of election season where nastiness is necessary and we have to read our scripts. But there was a slight degree of remove to it — and both players occasionally looked a bit amused as their scene partner said something particularly ugly.
Perhaps it was telling, then, that two of the more memorable — and arguably effective — strikes came when the candidates strayed out of the usual campaign muck and into the unlikely contours of their shared history.
After the topic veered to the recent burglary of Bass’ home and Caruso raised questions about the guns that had been stolen from her, Bass masterfully wielded a bit of emotion to say she was “disheartened” by Caruso’s response and reminded “the people of Los Angeles” that her home had been burglarized.
Her gun storage and registration were “100% legal,” but a letter from Caruso ally and Councilman Joe Buscaino calling for an investigation into the circumstances was an “act of desperation,” she said.
Then she twisted the knife: “The reason why I’m disappointed is because you remember when the Grove was burglarized, I called you to find out how you were,” Bass said, comparing her response after last fall’s smash-and-grab burglaries to the Buscaino letter and Caruso asking her “to prove one thing or another.”
About 20 minutes later, Caruso was the one to invoke their personal relationship, after Bass knocked him for his ping-ponging party registration history.
Caruso went on a quick tear about Bass “wrongly” comparing him to Trump, saying it was unfair and noting that he had never supported Trump or given him a dime. (The Trump comparisons have actually largely come from Bass surrogates, though the campaign has occasional made more sly Trump references.)
Then came his zinger: “When you asked me for donations, I supported you and gave you donations. Did you think I was Donald Trump when I was writing you a check?”
By leaning on their human interpersonal dynamic, both candidates succeeded, if only momentarily, at casting their opponent as the heartless, craven politician in the race.