The Revolution is Canceled

Like Kelly Wiglesworth on Survivor, Levitan thinks she can get away with playing the game both ways. She has quietly made her pact but tries to avoid notice by keeping her loyalties at arm's length. "Independence" is the favorite buzzword this election season among challengers and incumbents alike. The word implies candidates can think for themselves, but more important in this new era of geographically based elections, it protects candidates from having to commit.

While district elections were supposed to bring out the die-hards at the edges of the political spectrum, Levitan knows that to win she must cut across the widely incongruent constituencies within her district: the wealthy environmentalists on Telegraph Hill, the generally poor immigrants living in Chinatown, the gay renters living in Polk Gulch. She can't afford to attach herself too securely to anything, lest she alienate a key voting bloc. Instead, she tries to be everything to everybody.

As president of the Robert F. Kennedy Democratic Club, she describes herself as a centrist. She's a consensus builder, a uniter not a divider. She's half-Jewish, half-Catholic. She proclaims herself a renter, though she owns a condominium down the street. She grew up a Republican, but switched parties when she ran for the school board four years ago. Since then, she has adopted some of the thinking of new husband Dale Carlson, vice president of corporate affairs at the Pacific Stock Exchange, who has a strong, left-leaning political résumé. She's a little bit country, a little bit soul.

She compares her independent views with those of Peskin, "who is connected at the hip to Ammiano," she says. "Ammiano may have done well in the mayor's race, but there are a lot of people around here who are pretty sick of his stupid ideas like passing laws to protect fat people."

We've arrived at the house on Telegraph Hill where she wants to drop off her signs. This is Peskin country, and his name is in the windows of many of the houses on the block. "I gotta say, Aaron's done a pretty good job getting his signs up," she says. "It's all those Ammiano volunteers he's got. We'll see if they're still around come October."

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The Incumbent

Supervisor Alicia Becerril has a habit of pausing before she starts a sentence. These pregnant pauses usually suggest someone is thinking deeply about the subject at hand, though with Becerril it is unclear whether that's the case.

"I think it's important to protect the fire stations in the neighborhood," she says, over lunch at Enrico's.

"Are there any stations in danger of closing?"

Long pause.

"No, but if there were, I would want to protect them."

The supervisor often rolls her eyes as she thinks, then answers with a terminal rise in her voice as if she were asking a question. With her dark hair and her bangs hanging in her face, she could be Karen Black in Five Easy Pieces as she chews her pizza.

"I love this district," she says.

"Which part do you like best?"

Pause.

"Here?"

In the coming cycle of district elections, incumbents are likely to have a significant advantage over newcomers, but not in District 3. The mayor appointed Becerril to the board early last year, giving her every opportunity to make a name for herself, but she has not taken advantage of her position. To make matters worse, she has already made questionable errors in judgment on her campaign. For instance, she never showed up at the Latino American Democratic Club's endorsement meeting, though she has a better chance than any other Latino in the city of winning a seat on the board. The endorsement went to Peskin. More embarrassing, though she claims to be an advocate for tenant rights, she has tacked up a huge campaign poster in the window of a building where the owners are using the Ellis Act to evict 20 tenants, including a 93-year-old grandmother.

Becerril does not pose much of a threat to win the race. But with the resources of the mayor behind her, she could prove very damaging, particularly to Peskin. District elections were supposed to make it cheaper to run for office, but that idea is being undermined in two ways: by candidates who refuse to abide by the $75,000 spending limit and by soft money.

In District 3, for example, DeNunzio, who is a fund-raiser by profession, has not agreed to the spending cap. Because he has already collected more than half the $75,000 limit, election rules require that the cap be lifted for Becerril and the other candidates, allowing them to spend as much as they want. District 3 last week became the second ward to have the cap waived -- with others likely to follow.