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Harrisâs father does not participate in her public life (and didnât answer a request for an interview). The exception to the rule is telling. In February, on âThe Breakfast Club,â an urban-market radio show, Harris admitted to smoking a joint in college, and one of the hosts asked if she supported legalizing marijuana. âHalf my familyâs from Jamaicaâare you kidding me?â she replied, laughing. The glib response elided a more complicated record: she opposed recreational pot when she was D.A. of San Francisco, then apparently adapted her view as the public consensus shifted. But that wasnât the problem. After Harrisâs radio appearance, her father gave a statement to the Jamaican-diaspora Web site, reprimanding his daughter. âMy deceased parents must be turning in their grave right now to see their familyâs name, reputation and proud Jamaican identity being connected, in any way, jokingly or not with the fraudulent stereotype of a pot-smoking joy seeker and in the pursuit of identity politics,â he wrote. âSpeaking for myself and my immediate Jamaican family, we wish to categorically dissociate ourselves from this travesty.â When I asked Harris how she felt about this belated, public parenting, she said, âHeâs entitled to his opinion.â I asked if she found talking about Donald unpleasant. âIâm happy to talk about my father,â she said, glumly. âBut, ya know.â She raised her eyebrows, and said nothing. This was not going to be âDreams from My Father,â the sequel.
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Around the time that Owsley met her, Harris was a young prosecutor. She was dating Willie Brown, one of the most visible and powerful politicians in the state. He was sixtyâfour years older than her dad. Originally from segregated East Texas, he had come to San Francisco during the era of âJames Crowâ and, rather than join his uncleâs illegal gambling operation, became a defense attorney, representing pimps and prostitutes. Eventually, he won a seat in the State Assembly and, for fourteen years, served as speaker, earning the nickname the Ayatollah. A Democratic power broker with Republican allies, he apportioned the prime office space and knew where to find a legislator if his wife showed up looking for him. In the course of Brownâs career, he was investigated twice by the F.B.I. for corruption, but never charged with a crime. (He played a version of himself in âThe Godfather: Part III,â glad-handing Michael Corleone.) Brownâs social life was âspicy,â as he puts it. Married since 1957, he lives amicably apart from his wife, seeing her on holidays. He has had a series of girlfriendsâcurrently, heâs dating a Russian socialiteâand maintains a large collection of friends all over the city, notably among wealthy white donors in Pacific Heights. âWillie knows no strangers,â Owsley told me.
During Harrisâs short-lived romance with Brown, he ran for mayor; they broke up sometime between his victory party and his swearing-in. The association has clung to herââan albatross,â she told SF Weekly years ago. Some of the most abhorrent memes of the Presidential campaign riff on their relationship (âJust say no to Willie Brownâs hoâ), as does the third comment down on just about any Harris news story. Roseanne Barr has weighed in, scurrilously. Stories that mention Brown have always infuriated Harris; when I asked her campaign about him, a spokesperson testily referred me to statements that she made sixteen years ago.
Among political hopefuls, Brown is known as a mentor and a Pygmalion. Always nattily turned outâhe favors Brioni suits and Borsalino hatsâhe believes that people in public life should present themselves well. âWomen in politics need five or six well-fitted sets of pants,â he writes in his memoir. âThey also need a complement of blouses or shirts that can be interchanged. And they need a whole series of blazers.â Pelosi is always on point, he writes; Feinstein can look as if sheâs caught between seasons. Tactfully, he doesnât mention Harris, but he may as well have been cataloguing her wardrobe.
âWillie is a bit of a finishing school for some of the people in his orbit,â the local observer told me. âMost people donât quite know one hundred per cent how to dress for the first Pacific Heights cocktail party they get invited to. The notion that he helped polish somebody like Kamala a little moreâI donât think that is sexist. To use a Colette metaphor, he might have been the Aunt Alicia. âHereâs how you dress for this, and when you talk to this person remember that her husband likes to talk about this subjectâand you might get a big donation.â â Harris grew close to Wilkes Bashford, a friend of Brownâs and one of San Franciscoâs most exclusive clothiers, and she became a frequent bold name in the society columns. Even now, she is often featured in the address-restricted magazine the Nob Hill Gazette. Brown also arranged appointments for Harris on the California Unemployment Insurance Appeals Board and the stateâs Medical Assistance Commission, which together reportedly paid her about four hundred thousand dollars over five years. He gave her a car.
In his memoir, published the year Obama was elected President, Brown writes that it is critical for black candidates to âcross over into the white community.â He maintains that black women face a particular challenge being seen as leaders. âWhen whites look at black women, they see the women as servants, maids, and cooks (just as my mother was),â he writes. âNo matter how astute these women are, theyâve never been viewed as worthy of much beyond domestic-service status.â His advice to black women seeking political office: get involved at a high level with cultural and charitable organizations, âlike symphonies, museums, and hospitals.â In 1995, Harris joined the board of the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, where she designed a mentorship program for public-school teens.
Gavin Newsom, the Governor of California, is another Brown protĂ©gĂ©, though the connection is rarely held against him. Born into a political family from Pacific Heights, Newsom was a fixture in the social scene to which Brown introduced Harris. âI certainly remember Gavin delivering wine to our house,â Owsley said, remarking that her husband had invested in PlumpJack, Newsomâs hospitality company. When Newsom was twenty-eight, Brown appointed him to chair the Parking and Traffic Commission of San Francisco. Not long after, when a seat opened on the cityâs powerful Board of Supervisors, Brown chose Newsom to fill it. âI can candidly tell you with conviction I would not be governor of CaliforniaâI would not have been mayor of San Franciscoâwithout his support and his mentorship,â Newsom told me. âKamala was not directly appointed D.A. of San Francisco. I think itâs patently unfair to judge that harshly and not judge my relationship.â
Since Brown fostered both of them, Harris and Newsom have been political siblings vying for primacy. The day Harris was sworn in as D.A., in 2004, Newsom became mayor; when he became lieutenant governor, she was sworn in as state attorney general. They share donors, networks, and consultants, and have backed each other publicly on issues that range from supporting gay marriage to opposing the death penalty. (Harris also endorsed Newsomâs decision to turn undocumented minors accused of felonies over to Immigration and Customs Enforcement, a decision both have since disavowed.) The two have even vacationed together, Newsom acknowledged to me. I asked Nathan Click, who once served as a spokesperson for Harris and now does the same for Newsom, who the elder was. âI donât knowâtwins?â he said. A civic leader in San Francisco told me, âKamala and Gavin are like two puppies rolling around having fun together, seeing who pops out first.â
Several years ago, Harris and Newsomâs sibling rivalry was nearly put before the stateâs voters. As Governor Jerry Brown was entering his final term, Newsom was the lieutenant governor and Harris was attorney general. Governor was clearly the next job for each of them. âIt divided the social world,â Mimi Silbert, who co-founded the Delancey Street Foundation, a residency program for ex-convicts, and who is an old friend of both Harris and Newsom, says. âIt was, âIâm more for Gavin,â âWell, Iâm more for Kamala.â â As the tension was becoming excruciating, Barbara Boxer unexpectedly announced that she was giving up her seat in the U.S. Senate. Within days, Harris had declared that she would run for the Senate, clearing the way for Newsom eventually to become governor. âIt was very important when she decided, because running against her for any office was not something I had any desire to do,â Newsom, who is a co-chair of Harrisâs California campaign, said. âIf she decided to run for governor, that would have been perilous in terms of my own considerations.â