Brown Doesn’t Need to Spend His Money

Over his decades on California’s political scene, it’s always been a trick to tell when Attorney General Jerry Brown is joking and when he’s dead serious.

Still, it’s hard to imagine that Brown, who can be one intense guy, didn’t have at least a hint of a grin when he released his take on the latest fund-raising numbers in the Democratic race for governor.

As of June 30, Brown had $7.3 million in his campaign war chest, compared to $1.2 million for San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom, the only official Democratic candidate for governor. Even more tellingly, Brown only spent $253,181 in that same period, while Newsom burned through $1.5 million.

Those numbers, Brown said, show that his campaign is “exercising the fiscal discipline desperately needed in government today.’’

Try being a politician and saying that with a straight face.

Not that Brown isn’t a thrifty sort. Besides the legendary state-issued blue Plymouth that he used during his two terms as governor and the small apartment that served as a very low-end governor’s mansion during his time in Sacramento, there are plenty of stories circulating that bolster Brown’s reputation as someone who’s frugal, if not downright cheap.

But when it comes to the campaign money, Brown is sitting on his stash not because he doesn’t want to spend the cash, but because he doesn’t have to.

Think about it for a minute. Brown grew up as the son of Pat Brown, a two-term governor who also served as San Francisco’s district attorney and state attorney general.

Brown himself was living in Southern California when he was elected as a trustee of the Los Angeles Community College District in 1969, then won a statewide race to become California’s secretary of state. He was governor from 1975 to 1983, lost a U.S. Senate race in 1982 and served as chair of the state Democratic Party in 1989. He was mayor of Oakland for eight years and then was elected attorney general in 2006.

That’s not to mention three presidential campaigns, including one, in 1976, where he ended up winning some primaries and collecting around 300 delegates. And then there was the Time magazine cover in 1974, when he was 36, and numerous mentions in the Doonesbury comic strip (Sure, they weren’t too favorable, but they did spell his name right).

This is not the resume of a guy who has to spend a bunch of money to get his name out before California voters and Brown knows that better than anyone.

On the other side, it was only six years ago that Newsom was just one of 11 San Francisco supervisors. He went to high school in Marin County and college in Santa Clara and has spent virtually his entire life between those two points. And while he’s mayor of San Francisco, that job hasn’t exactly been a stepping-stone to the governor’s mansion in the past.

Which is why Newsom has been spending money almost as quickly as he takes it in. He’s been traveling around the state, trying to put his face and his plans for California in front of the Democrats who will be voting in next June’s primary.

That driving need for campaign cash is the likely reason Eric Jaye, Newsom’s long-time political guru, got tossed off the bus last month. Not only was Newsom unhappy with Jaye’s slow-moving efforts to tap the new sources of Democratic money that helped fuel President Obama’s successful campaign, but Jaye’s paycheck also was an on-going cost.

With Garry South, the veteran consultant who ran Gary Davis’ successful campaigns for governor, pulling in better than $120,000 the first half of the year, the $75,000 Jay got in consulting fees was money that could be spent elsewhere. And with Jaye gone and South running the show, it will be.

Criticizing Newsom, even obliquely, for running through a lot of money ignores the fact that the only reason to raise campaign cash is to spend it. The mayor needs the name recognition those dollars can buy and he needs it now.

Brown doesn’t. That’s why he can afford to dawdle in making any official announcement that he’s running for governor and rely instead on an early effort that features the unpaid help of his wife, Anne Gust, some fund-raising help to reach the people who have helped him in the past and a grand total of $1,500 a month to a Pleasanton consultant.