In coronavirus crisis, Gavin Newsom is California’s president. And he’s being tested

“Gov. Jerry Brown once described the job of California governor as a ‘career-ender.’ Gavin Newsom seems destined to test this theory.”

I wrote these notes in January, before any of us knew how the coronavirus would soon disrupt our lives.

“You might say Newsom never had a chance. Sure, he inherited Jerry Brown’s multibillion-dollar surpluses. But he also inherited the apocalypse.”

At the time, “apocalypse” meant homelessness, climate change and poverty. Suddenly, we find ourselves in the strange new reality of COVID-19, which exponentially worsens our problems. We have sequestered in our homes, grinding the economy to a halt and leaving 1 million people unemployed. The “highest stock market in history” has collapsed in a toilet paper panic. The most powerful country in the world can’t supply enough protective equipment for doctors or ventilators for critically-ill patients. Tough days lie ahead.

In this moment of global uncertainty, Gavin Newsom is no longer just a governor. He is, more or less, California’s president.

Opinion

Don’t mistake this for a compliment. If anything, it’s a curse. In the absence of competent White House leadership, fate has saddled Gavin Christopher Newsom with an unenviable task. He must take responsibility – also known as blame – for a range of issues beyond the traditional scope of his office. We can’t depend on our president, so we must demand from our governor.

Can Newsom meet the moment? He appears to be doing his damnedest. California’s response to COVID-19 is the most aggressive in the nation. We may never know how many lives Newsom saved with his early stay-in-place order.

He has committed $150 million in emergency funding, and requisitioned hundreds of motels, to protect the homeless. In an Oscar-worthy performance, he has suppressed his disdain for President Trump and worked diplomatically to obtain life-saving federal resources. When Tesla founder Elon Musk tweeted a public offer to provide ventilators, Newsom quickly secured 1,255.

Health, education, food supply, prisons – Newsom is managing the state’s full array of concerns in an unprecedented crisis. He is providing a steady counterpoint to Trump’s chaos, beaming live to our screens from the Office of Emergency Services. But this challenge will only intensify, testing Newsom – who spent eight quiet years as lieutenant governor before this rendezvous with hell – far beyond his experience level.

Newsom spent decades pining for this position. Now, in dire circumstances, we’ll see whether his performance lives up to his promise.

I’ve watched Newsom’s career for nearly 20 years. When he became San Francisco mayor in 2003, I was working across the bay for Oakland Mayor Jerry Brown. He immediately saw Newsom as competition. Any politician who wanted to get to the top of California politics knew they’d have to beat Newsom first. So, though I worked for Democrats, Newsom was always an adversary. I studied his vulnerabilities, memorized his failures and became an expert at needling him.

At his worst, Newsom’s easy to despise: thin-skinned, haughty and petulant. Critics knock him as someone who thinks big but falls short. As mayor, he engulfed himself in scandal, warred with the press and ditched city hall a year early – amid the carnage of the Great Recession – for a do-nothing “lite guv” gig. We saw a glimpse of Newsom’s petty side during his first State of the State speech, when he announced plans to cancel California’s high-speed rail project then backtracked, denied his own words and attacked the press.

At his best, however, Newsom stuns the world with audacity and shakes society’s foundations. He demonstrated this capability during the “Winter of Love” in 2004, when he singlehandedly changed the course of history by allowing gay and lesbian couples to marry. We glimpsed Newsom’s bold side when, during his first year as governor, he imposed a death penalty moratorium and took responsibility for solving homelessness.

Still, Newsom’s boldest moves have entailed little risk. Last year, he had the luxury of using part of Brown’s $21.5 billion budget surplus to expand health care coverage and boost tax credits for poor families. Such generosity was unthinkable when Brown took office in 2011 facing a $27 billion budget deficit that forced “apocalyptic” cuts to core services.

I served as Gov. Brown’s press secretary during those tumultuous years. COVID-19 makes them look like the good old days. The budget had a simple solution: taxes. Winning them wasn’t easy, but after Brown clinched voter support for 2012’s Proposition 30, the deficit became surplus. Newsom inherited the windfall while insinuating he could do better than Brown’s gloomy caution.

“These days, too many politicians want to tell us what can’t be done,” said Newsom in 2018. “But our can-do campaign painted in bold colors and big ideas.”

Those words seem quaint now. Even if California avoids a worst-case coronavirus scenario, the governor’s position has fundamentally shifted. The shutdown’s economic toll could wipe out California’s $21 billion reserves, forcing Newsom to make tough choices – or to finally prove himself.

It’s a tall order, but even his detractors must wish him success. This terrible moment was his destiny all along, but it’s our destiny, too. Gavin Newsom may be the most consequential governor in California history – whether we like it or not.

Gil Duran is California opinion editor of The Sacramento Bee. Email him at gduran@sacbee.com or follow him on Twitter @gilduran76