I’ll confess: I have Mike Curb on the brain.
For those not steeped in the history of post-Watergate California politics, Curb served one four-year term as the Golden State’s lieutenant governor, coinciding with Jerry Brown’s second term as governor, 1979–1983.
Curb was memorable for his persistence in making Brown’s life difficult thanks to a provision in California’s constitution that makes the lieutenant governor the state’s interim governor anytime the incumbent leaves the Golden State’s boundaries, which Brown frequently did as he was seeking the presidency for a second time. Brown spent two hundred days out of state during the first half of his second term.
In Brown’s absence, Curb signed pending legislation—for example, a bill requiring mandatory jail time for residential burglars. He also pushed the envelope of his “acting” powers when he appointed a conservative appeals court justice. Fed up with the situation, Brown sought a judicial remedy, only to have California’s Supreme Court issue a Solomonic ruling. The high court backed Curb’s right to take gubernatorial action but also allowed Brown to rescind the judicial appointment.
Curb came to mind last week when California’s state legislature forwarded two bills to Governor Gavin Newsom two days after the November election. They called for a special session of the legislature for the purpose of “Trump-proofing” California. One bill would earmark $25 million for the state Department of Justice to fight legal battles against the federal government, and the other would set aside $25 million to defend immigrants facing possible deportation.
However, those bills sat untouched in Newsom’s office, as the governor was in Washington roaming the halls of Congress and the West Wing of the White House (including a reported ninety-minute meeting with President Trump) to make his case for California disaster relief. The current lieutenant governor, Eleni Kounalakis, could have signed the bills, but she didn’t.
What does this tell us? It might say that Kounalakis, a Democrat who aspires to replace Newsom—she announced plans to enter the 2026 governor’s race nearly two years ago—is amazingly deferential to the governor. Newsom returned to California late last week and promptly signed the bills, resulting in more of a whimper than a bang, as the bill-signing occurred on a Friday. Traditionally governors don’t showcase positive news on Fridays for fear of it getting lost in the weekend news cycle.
A more likely explanation: With Newsom on the other side of the continent and asking a reluctant Republican Congress and newly installed president for more money to deal with the aftermath of the Los Angeles wildfires, it may be as simple as cooler heads prevailing—in this case, holding off on celebrating legislative acts of Trump defiance until after the governor tried to make nice in Washington.
About Newsom’s visit back east: it was refreshing in that the governor did . . . well, what one expects of a state chief executive. There was no preening for the DC press corps or talk of a future presidential run overshadowing the stated purpose of the pilgrimage east.
Instead, Newsom met with Republican House members who could be helpful in pleading California’s case for emergency aid. Those meetings included a one-on-one with California congressman Doug LaMalfa, the chair of the House Agriculture Committee’s forestry subcommittee. (Ironically, that get-together included this image of a smiling Newsom with a green flag bearing the seal of the breakaway “State of Jefferson” hanging behind him.)
While at the White House, Newsom literally went out of his way to prevent the soap opera that is his relationship with Trump from entering the headlines: After meeting with the president, the governor eschewed the usual press gaggle in the White House’s driveway. Newsom did pop up on CNN later the same day, calling his latest encounter with Trump “incredibly productive” and suggesting there are better days for the two. “I have all the confidence in the world that it’s going to be a strong partnership moving forward,” he said.
That same interview included California’s governor offering some perspective on his dealings with Trump, such as the juvenile taunting that often plays out on the mean streets of social media. Said Newsom, “It’s a joke and it’s not. It’s frustrating for people. We’re sort of chasing headlines. We’re tracing tweets, but at the end of the day, what matters to me is what matters. Control what you can control and focus on people and results and getting things done.”
Thus, California was given a moment of calm it might not have expected. Three months ago, a defiant Newsom (“California is ready to fight”) seemed determined to put his state—and perhaps his own presidential fortunes—at the front of the anti-Trump “resistance.” But instead, picture the president and the governor in a remake of the last scene of Casablanca (“Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship”).
Does this suggest that Newsom, Trump, California, and the federal government have entered a new and sustainable “era of good feelings?”
Don’t bet on it.
To the extent that Newsom showed contrition in Washington—well, he had to. A Californian is no longer a heartbeat away from the presidency; plus Republicans control both chambers of Congress and, with it, the power of the federal purse. For Newsom to have gone to Washington and demanded money for California rather than courting reluctant lawmakers would have been part arrogance and part political malpractice.
One way to tell the longevity of last week’s Newsom-Trump lovefest: what the two will signal in upcoming big speeches. For Trump, that’s the March 4 State of the Union Address (to see Newsom sitting in the House gallery as presidential invitee would be a bigger upset than what happened in the Superdome last weekend). Does California seep in Trump’s remarks, as it did in his inaugural address when he criticized Los Angeles’s fire response?
As for Newsom’s big speech—the governor’s annual State of the State address—there’s the question of when he decides to deliver it and whether he’ll stay on the high road vis-à-vis Trump. The earliest Newsom has delivered a State of the State address was in 2019, his first year as governor, on February 12. Otherwise, previous Newsom addresses have occurred later in February, three times in March, and—last year—on the last Monday in June (a very dark address, as my colleague Lee Ohanian noted at the time).
For Newsom, it will be the third such oration to be delivered while Trump occupies the Oval Office. The question is: To what extent does he keep Trump out it?
In 2017, Newsom’s predecessor, Jerry Brown (yes, the same fellow Curb tormented almost forty years prior), linked the dawn of the previous Trump presidency to “signs that are disturbing.” In Brown’s words: “We have seen the bald assertion of ‘alternative facts.’ We have heard the blatant attacks on science. Familiar signposts of our democracy—truth, civility, working together—have been obscured or swept aside.”
A year later, Brown delivered a less pointed speech, this time crediting the Trump administration for approving federal funds to fight wildfires while avoiding mention of his and Trump’s differences over federal immigration policy and California’s new “sanctuary state” law (a conflict that is now back in the news).
Brown, of course, gave way to Newsom, who delivered a first State of the State address that wasn’t as much devoted to Trump as it was to the governor’s nascent agenda. Besides, in an inaugural address delivered five weeks earlier, the new governor made it clear where he stood on the current president: “There is an administration in Washington hostile to California’s values and interests.” Newsom’s next State of the State address, in 2020, was unusual in its focus on homelessness, which Newsom chalked up to “institutional failures.”
Why did Newsom devote his address to that one policy morass? Simple: He couldn’t ignore polls relaying that homelessness was the electorate’s most important issue for California’s leaders to address.
What path will Newsom choose when he decides to regale his fellow Californians with his vision for the Golden State? He could talk up the Los Angeles fires as an exemplar of California’s courage—and challenges ahead.
Or Newsom could revert to this passage from last November, when he called the legislature to action: “The freedoms we hold dear in California are under attack—and we won’t sit idle. . . . We are prepared, and we will do everything necessary to ensure Californians have the support and resources they need to thrive.”
The funny thing about those words: Assuming Newsom delivers them in the State Capitol, an audience of Trump-loathing progressive lawmakers will applaud wildly.
But can California, with little in the way of political leverage in a Republican-controlled Washington, afford the repercussions?
