San Francisco Chronicle (Sunday)
Up close with S.F.’s mayoral candidates
With few policy differences among the top contenders, personality will play a big role in the race
You can learn a lot about a person by seeing how they interact with others.
That’s why I’ve always been fascinated by political campaigning — the awkwardness and egotism at play as candidates approach people they’ve never met and butter them up, all while trying not to seem transactional.
San Franciscans might want the main contenders of the upcoming mayoral election — Mayor London Breed, former supervisor and interim Mayor Mark Farrell, nonprofit founder and Levi Strauss heir Daniel Lurie, Board of Supervisors President Aaron Peskin and Supervisor Ahsha Safaí — to be laser-focused on substance.
But personality will inevitably play a big role in the race — particularly because the candidates are all Democrats, and there isn’t quite as much policy daylight between them as the heated campaign rhetoric would suggest.
That’s why I spent more than a month trailing each of the major candidates at campaign events — to observe firsthand the type of persona they’re cultivating for voters and how those voters are responding.
I began by joining Breed on a mid-May campaign tour through the streets of the Fillmore in the Western Addition — the neighborhood where she grew up.
It was immediately obvious that while Breed may have dismal approval ratings, she also has major star power. Cars honked, people called out to her from across the street and bystanders snapped pictures. Two little girls even requested her autograph, asking shyly if she were famous.
“I think maybe in San Francisco, but not everywhere,” Breed responded, laughing.
Wearing a royal blue suit and an elegant white blouse, surrounded by an entourage of campaign staff and bodyguards, Breed was imposing — yet still accessible. She seemed to know everyone she passed — from an elderly woman clutching a walker with long pink nails, to a young girl who Breed said was a friend’s daughter she hadn’t seen in years.
Surrounded by people who were rooting for her, Breed was confident and relaxed. She became flintier when we sat down at a cafe to chat.
I asked her what it was like to run against Peskin and Farrell, who collaborated to install Farrell as interim mayor in 2018 after Mayor Ed Lee passed away — bypassing Breed, who was then president of the Board of Supervisors.
“I don’t care,” she retorted. “They’re the ones with women problems. I’m not the one with man problems.”
Breed is a master at such snappy one-liners, and dropped another when I asked about the main difference between herself and her competitors. “Some of them have probably never had to borrow money to pay rent a day in their life,” she said. “I’m happy for them — hell, I wish my mama had $1 million” — a not-so-subtle dig at Lurie, whose mother, Miriam Haas, donated that amount to an independent committee supporting her son.
Lurie may be benefiting from his mom’s piggy bank, but he has star power of his own, which I witnessed on a merchant walk in the Castro in late June.
Wearing rainbow socks and accompanied by staff members armed with clever, if slightly cringey, signs that read “Daniel Curious,” Lurie was swarmed by admirers: an older Asian American woman who dragged over a friend to meet him, nail salon workers who described him as a “very handsome man,” a real estate agent who excitedly shared that Lurie was his No. 1 pick.
Lurie’s wealth has surely helped his name and face ID, but he’s not an unskilled politician. Watching him chat with voters, I noted how quickly he was able to endear himself to them.
Instead of offering policy prescriptions or rattling off self-promotional talking points, he listened to residents and gave them business cards so they could contact him directly.
“Everything I heard today is how things are done to people in this city without communication,” Lurie told me. “What people should know about me is I listen.”
Lurie’s reception in the Castro was markedly different from that of Safaí, who I’d accompanied on a merchant walk just
the day before.
Strolling the neighborhood in a gray suit and white opennecked shirt, Safaí seemed eager to prove his legislative bona fides to anyone who would listen. When some merchants complained about rampant retail theft, he was quick to defend his record.
“You can go back and check — I was the only one ringing the alarm about retail theft in a very aggressive way,” Safaí said.
Alas, these comments seemed to irritate the merchants more
than impress them.
Other attempts to appeal to voters fell comically flat — such as when he told one immigrant shop owner that he was the only immigrant among the leading mayoral candidates.
“Congratulations,” the merchant said dryly.
Still, Safaí, who’s polling behind the other candidates, seemed undeterred. “I’m representing a voice that I don’t think is represented if I’m not in the race,” he said.
Meanwhile, I joined the presumptive frontrunner, Farrell, as he campaigned at the Noe Valley Farmer’s Market on a beautiful mid-June morning.
Dressed casually in dark jeans, a white button-up and tennis shoes, Farrell projected the easygoing confidence of someone used to getting what he wants. I couldn’t help but picture the fraternity bros I went to college with, all grown up.
I’m unsure if Farrell was a fraternity member himself, but it’s clear he still likes to have a good time. As the San Francisco Standard recently revealed, he appears to have used a legal loophole in his final year as supervisor to spend thousands of dollars in campaign funds at San Francisco’s swankiest bars and restaurants.
At the market, Farrell made easy conversation with vendors and shoppers and took care to introduce his wife and children to everyone he encountered. Residents seemed to respond positively to his depiction of himself as a strong chief executive: “It’s about experience, it’s about competence and then a vision — who’s going to be the leader.”
A big man, Farrell towers above the other candidates, which undoubtedly helps to reinforce his message of strength and stability. But a certain snazziness is sometimes missing.
During the first mayoral debate, Farrell inexplicably claimed that his favorite San Francisco tradition is going to Alcatraz. Contrast that with Peskin, who said that his favorite tradition is swimming to Alcatraz — drawing laughs from the audience. (Peskin famously starts most of his mornings with a swim in the Bay.)
Peskin’s 25 years in city government have left him with a controversial legacy — he’s a progressive hero to some and a bureaucracy-enamored NIMBY to others. But there’s no denying that he’s a true quirky San Francisco character. He described himself to me as “a gregarious person who cares about people and about community.”
Watching him work the room in a dark suit and patterned tie at a late June dinner in Chinatown, it was difficult not to be impressed.
I kept losing track of him as he bounced from table to table, shaking hands, saluting and practicing phrases in Cantonese. He seemed to know almost everyone and greeted each police officer by name. He playfully remarked to one man that a mutual acquaintance had already maxed out donations to Peskin’s campaign and that he needed to catch up.
As we sat down for dinner and a lion dance performance, Peskin pointed out various people to me and explained who they were and their role in the community. It was obvious that he relished being in the thick of things — being in the know.
His relationships with others haven’t always been so jocular. In 2021, he entered alcohol treatment following complaints that he had for years bullied and harassed colleagues and other officials and showed up to work under the influence.
Peskin said he has now been sober for three years and has managed to repair most of the affected relationships.
“Nothing in this life or this business of politics is permanent, and then you’ve gotta work together on the next thing.”
His point about the evanescent nature of politics is apt. The mayoral campaign is still in its larval stages; a lot could change between now and November.
But one thing is clear: Amid diminished faith in our political infrastructure, people just want someone they can trust. Words, track records and even money only go so far. In such a tight race, the power of individual connection may make all the difference.