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Politicians rise or fall on disaster response. The LA County fires are Gavin Newsom’s big test

February 22, 2025

California Governor Gavin Newsom, right, surveys damage in Pacific Palisades with CalFire's Nick Schuler during the Palisades Fire on Wednesday, Jan. 8, 2025, in Pacific Palisades, CA. ..(Photo by Jeff Gritchen, Orange County Register/SCNG) — California Governor Gavin Newsom, right, surveys damage in Pacific Palisades with CalFire’s Nick Schuler during the Palisades Fire on Wednesday, Jan. 8, 2025, in Pacific Palisades. (Photo by Jeff Gritchen, Orange County Register/SCNG)

Gov. Gavin Newsom has become a familiar sight around Los Angeles County since the firestorm that swept through the region last month, leveling neighborhoods in Pacific Palisades and Altadena.

In the first days of the disaster, he was spotted touring the wreckage. In the weeks after, he launched a recovery initiative with celebrity friends and greeted President Donald Trump on the tarmac at LAX.

Even local officials have taken notice.

“I want to thank our governor, who has been here from day one. I’ve seen you more in the last month than I think…well, I won’t even go there,” Los Angeles County Supervisor Kathryn Barger said last week at a press conference in Altadena, as Newsom chuckled and nodded behind her.

Facing what is expected to be one of the costliest natural disasters in the country’s history — the type of crisis that not only tests a politician, but can redefine one — Newsom has leaned all the way in, effectively becoming the governor of Los Angeles.

He lived and worked from the city almost nonstop for the first three weeks after the fires broke out in early January, while executive orders and announcements managing the response have continued daily since he returned to Sacramento. Even his podcast “Politickin’,” co-hosted by football star Marshawn Lynch, has featured two fire-related episodes, including a “town hall” where Newsom answered questions from survivors of the disaster.

And the governor, who was once poised to lead the renewed Democratic resistance to Trump, has essentially disengaged from the outrage over the chaotic start of the president’s second term as he lobbies for federal disaster aid for Los Angeles. Aside from standard notifications about appointments and proclamations and a few statements on major events, Newsom’s office has barely issued a press release unrelated to the Los Angeles fires for more than a month — a level of singular focus unmatched in his governorship, with the exception of the early COVID pandemic.

At the press conference in Altadena, organized to tout a new phase of debris removal, Newsom called it “an extended period of engagement” with Los Angeles to facilitate its recovery “in unprecedented, record-breaking speed.”

“We’re not dictating the design. We’re not dictating the rebuild. But we want to make it easier,” he said.

Newsom’s deep involvement is sensible, and perhaps necessary, for a situation as complex, expensive and politically fraught as this one; the damage sprawls across communities that fall under different local governments, and whether California receives federal assistance, and under what conditions, remains unclear.

A person wearing a grey jacket stands behind a microphone in front of a group of people behind them. In the background is a chained linked fence with burned trees and homes behind it. — Gov. Gavin Newsom speaks during a visit to an area affected by the Eaton Fire in Altadena on Feb. 11, 2025. Photo by Damian Dovarganes, AP Photo

But the fervor with which he has taken ownership over the response to a regional disaster also suggests a politician aware of how the Los Angeles fires is a crucial moment in his gubernatorial legacy — and his next step. This may be the biggest spotlight left for Newsom, who has been floated as a leading contender for the 2028 Democratic presidential primary despite a steadily declining job approval rating among Californians, before he terms out of office in less than two years.

“People do turn to leadership, state or federal, when all hell is breaking loose,” said Jim Newton, a longtime journalist who wrote a biography of former Gov. Jerry Brown and now teaches at UCLA. “It’s a time when you can really seal the affections of people by seeming to be there for them.”

Newsom’s office turned down requests to speak with the governor about his approach. But Bob Salladay, his senior advisor for communications, insisted that Newsom and his staff are not contemplating his legacy as they navigate the response to the fires.

“That’s for other people. I guarantee he doesn’t think about that,” Salladay said. “He’s doing his job.”

All eyes on Los Angeles

The job took a turn on Jan. 7, when hurricane-force winds ignited a series of fires around Los Angeles, killing at least 29 people and destroying more than 16,000 structures.

Already in Southern California for an event with then-President Joe Biden that was ultimately scrapped, Newsom made it to the fire zone within hours, Salladay said, “and when it became very quickly clear that this was one of the worst disasters in California history, we stayed.”

“Just being down there and seeing the level of devastation, it was clear that this was something that was going to take all of his time,” he said.

Newsom remained in Los Angeles for 15 of the next 25 days, according to Salladay, living out of a hotel and working from a satellite governor’s office at the Ronald Reagan State Building downtown. Morning briefing calls about the fires brought together every agency in his administration, and nearly two dozen cabinet secretaries and high-level staff joined Newsom in Los Angeles at various points, including a rapid response team focused on combating, in the media and online, what Salladay called “the flood of misinformation” about the fires.

That allowed the governor’s team to work faster as it developed the state’s response to the crisis. Salladay said conversations with residents, firefighters, FEMA officials and others on the ground brought in more information that directly shaped policy, such as an executive order on predatory real estate speculators that came from concerns raised by leaders in Altadena.

“There was a lot of anxiety that you pick up that you wouldn’t pick up if you were in Sacramento,” he said. “It’s adding a whole new layer of speed and efficiency.”

Republican state legislators have criticized Newsom’s response for not prioritizing vegetation management and they have tried to connect the fires to his forestry policies that they have long characterized as inadequate. But the governor so far appears to be shouldering little blame for the disaster, especially as local officials embrace his presence.

Barger, a Republican whose nonpartisan supervisorial district includes Altadena, praised Newsom for being highly involved and available from day one. She told CalMatters in an interview that she appreciated how he has given just as much attention to Altadena as the much-wealthier Pacific Palisades, including by meeting with employees of the nearby NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory who lost their homes, and by signing one of his executive orders at a local church.

“Those types of visits mean a lot to the community,” she said. “I don’t like lazy, and this governor has shown that he’s not lazy.”

Barger — who said she began using her hands more when she spoke after spending so much time with Newsom — was most complimentary of the governor for setting aside partisan politics to work with Trump on securing disaster aid.

“He showed that he’s truly a statesman,” she said.

Newsom has kept his public focus almost exclusively on the Los Angeles fires: He has signed 19 executive orders since the start of the disaster, including extending tax filing deadlines, creating tenant protections for survivors, allowing students to attend school outside of their districts and suspending permitting requirements for homeowners trying to rebuild. He is also sponsoring legislation, something he only rarely does, that would provide the accrued interest on insurance payments for lost or damaged property to homeowners rather than their lenders. His cabinet secretary, Ann Patterson, is slated to transition in the coming months to a senior counselor role overseeing recovery efforts.

A group of officials and first responders stand on a street in a fire-damaged area, with charred buildings and trees visible in the background. One individual wears a cap and sunglasses, while others wear jackets or uniforms. A camera crew films the scene, and smoke fills the hazy sky. — Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass and Gov. Gavin Newsom tour the downtown business district of Pacific Palisades as the Palisades Fire burned on Jan. 8, 2025. Photo by Eric Thayer, Getty Images

The governor is still returning regularly to Los Angeles, including to sign a $2.5 billion aid package into law and to launch LA Rises, a partnership with the private sector to support rebuilding.

Because of early threats by Trump to withhold or condition federal assistance for Los Angeles, advocating for disaster aid has become another primary endeavor. When the White House excluded Newsom from the president’s brief visit to the fire zone last month, he showed up to the airport for Trump’s arrival to secure an audience anyway. Newsom then traveled to Washington, D.C., in early February, where he reportedly became the first Democrat to meet with Trump in the Oval Office in his second term.

And it’s all being collected on his official website, on a continuously updated page headlined: “Here are all the actions Governor Newsom has taken in response to the Los Angeles fires.”

The message is not subtle — Newsom is in charge of this crisis and he’s got it under control — but it may be what Californians are looking for at this tender moment.

Leslie Goodman, who was then-Gov. Pete Wilson’s deputy chief of staff for communications during the 1994 Northridge earthquake, said it’s important for politicians to go to a disaster to demonstrate both compassion and leadership — “to say, ‘I’m here, I care, I see you, I understand the amount of damage that’s been done and I’m doing something about it.’”

“It’s a delicate balance, between wanting to both show that you care and share the pain of those that are suffering, and then also being able to demonstrate urgency in being to fix the problem and not overstepping in your promises,” she said.

When disasters define political legacies

Disasters can be metamorphic moments for politicians, transforming their public perception and raising or sinking their fortunes.

Rudy Giuliani earned the moniker “America’s mayor” as he led New York through the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attack. Former New Jersey Gov. Chris Christie, a Republican, came to be seen as a bipartisan powerhouse for working with then-President Barack Obama, a Democrat, on the response to Superstorm Sandy in 2012. But the goodwill ultimately proved fleeting for both Giuliani and Christie, who were spectacularly unsuccessful in later campaigns for the Republican presidential nomination built on their handling of those crises. (At the time, then Sen. Joe Biden quipped that every sentence out of Giuliani’s mouth contained “a noun, a verb and 9/11.”)

Bungled responses seem to have a more lasting impact on a legacy. Democratic Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Babineaux Blanco did not run for re-election in 2007, as she faced harsh criticism for the difficult recovery from Hurricane Katrina.

Even a politicians’ absence from a crisis can have fallout. When the Watts neighborhood of Los Angeles erupted in riots in 1965, then-Gov. Pat Brown was on vacation in Greece; the chaos is often regarded as a significant factor in his loss the following year as he sought a third term. Los Angeles Mayor Karen Bass now faces a similar blowback, because she had to rush home from Ghana, where she was attending the new president’s inauguration on behalf of the Biden administration, to deal with the recent fires.

Former San Francisco Mayor Art Agnos initially received plaudits for his firm handling of the massive destruction from the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake, but voters eventually grew frustrated with many of his decisions about rebuilding the city and unexpectedly ousted him from office two years later. Nothing damaged Agnos more than his indulgence of a sprawling homeless encampment across from City Hall, sarcastically dubbed “Camp Agnos,” which grew after the earthquake destroyed many of the city’s residential hotels, and which the mayor refused to dismantle until the residents had somewhere else to go.

“I knew it was hurting me badly, but frankly, I did not want to promote myself or take care of myself politically at the expense of poor people. So I paid the price,” Agnos said in an interview. Voters “focused on the negativity of the human damage rather than the improvements and the other things that were so appealing to them in the immediate aftermath.”

Agnos — who recalled getting booed when he showed up late to a public meeting with residents of the heavily-damaged Marina neighborhood because a briefing with then-Gov. George Deukmejian ran long — said people want to feel that their own needs are being taken care of after a disaster. That poses the most serious challenge for Newsom in owning the recovery from the Los Angeles fires.

“People are impatient to get back in their homes and restore normalcy in their lives,” Agnos said. “If he doesn’t do it in the next year, he’s toast.”

Newsom himself already knows the dynamics well. His aggressive response to the COVID pandemic in early 2020 made him a national hero to many Democrats frustrated about Trump’s blithe dismissal of the virus. And that sentiment carried him through a subsequent recall election, which was fueled in part by his attendance at a birthday dinner for a lobbyist friend in violation of his own pandemic guidelines.

But this is a different flavor of crisis than COVID, said the journalist Newton. While his lockdown orders and other public health measures may have inspired an intellectual and political allegiance to Newsom among many Californians, it did not seem to create a more profound connection. “There’s a polish about him that resists it,” Newton said.

The Los Angeles fires, by contrast, have a “roll-up-your-sleeves, get-to-the-victims feeling” that was not present in the pandemic, Newton said, which gives the governor an opportunity for a response that “grips people in the heart.”

“Whatever he does next, or whatever his obituary looks like, I think I’d want to be seen as having a real connection to the people of California,” Newton said. “People only care about beginnings and endings, and you can get away with anything in the middle.”

Pete Wilson’s playbook: the ‘subtle win’

The most direct comparison may be to Wilson in the wake of the 6.7-magnitude Northridge earthquake, which rocked Los Angeles in January 1994. The then-governor spent more than a month in the badly-damaged city, former aides recall, surveying the wreckage, giving daily briefings to the public and overseeing recovery efforts, including a repair and reopening of freeways that was lauded for its speed.

Goodman, who had recently started as Wilson’s communications chief, was already in Los Angeles preparing for a crime summit and remembers being thrown out of bed in the middle of the night by the shaking. The hotel where she was staying was later condemned.

For the next 10 days, she said, the governor’s office operated out of a local Marriott. Wilson flew to Los Angeles after securing a federal emergency declaration and he was joined by his cabinet secretaries, who began working from Los Angeles so that they could coordinate more closely with their local counterparts, without downed communications or bureaucracy getting in the way.

“Each crisis has its own texture because of the nature of the damage,” Goodman said. “It was really important that everybody in the room was collaborating and, if not, that (the governor) was there to sort it out.”

Getting dozens of debilitated hospitals fully operational again became a major undertaking, and state health and human services agency officials traveled to medical centers around the region for weeks to assess their damage, deliver paperwork and handle other emergency requests. Tyler Mason, who was an assistant secretary of health and human services, said he once had to take cover from an aftershock while visiting Olive View hospital in Sylmar.

He credited Wilson’s local government experience, as a former mayor of San Diego, for propelling his forceful, detailed response to the disaster — an approach that he saw echoed by Newsom, a former mayor of San Francisco, with the Los Angeles fires.

“There was just this prone instinct to getting close to the services that people need in a crisis,” Mason said. “It’s those genes, those innate genes, in those guys.”

Wilson emerged from Northridge the sparkling image of a decisive leader, helping to turn around his weak job approval rating and launching him to a comeback re-election victory that November.

Yet 30 years later, the earthquake is notably rarely mentioned in reflections on Wilson’s career. He is now far more associated with championing the controversial Proposition 187, a ballot measure to withhold public services from immigrants living in California illegally.

“Legacies can be seen differently in different time frames,” Goodman said. “The social issues always supersede managerial excellence.”

Mason noted that, while Wilson may not be remembered for rebuilding highways and reopening hospitals, he is at least not known for screwing up the Northridge recovery:

“That may be the subtle win.”

Politicians rise or fall on disaster response. The LA County fires are Gavin Newsom’s big test Orange County Register

News Details

Politicians rise or fall on disaster response. The LA County fires are Gavin Newsom’s big test

All eyes on Los Angeles

When disasters define political legacies

Pete Wilson’s playbook: the ‘subtle win’

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