A few weeks from now marks the 31st anniversary of the beginning of an ongoing soap opera in American politics: a game of one-upmanship between California’s elected leaders and the federal government.
The initial installment in this drama: in April 1994, the reopening of the Santa Monica Freeway less than three months after the Northridge earthquake struck California’s Southland.
The lead players: then-Governor Pete Wilson, up for reelection that fall and looking to get as much political mileage as possible out of the early reopening in voter-rich Los Angeles County; and then–Vice President Al Gore, also on hand for the grand reopening so as to remind Californians that the Clinton administration dearly loved the Golden State (this was less than two years after California had voted Democratic in a presidential election for the first time since 1964).
Where the political jockeying kicked in: Rather than reopening the freeway as part of an elaborate daylight event featuring local, state, and national leaders, the Republican governor instead reopened the road late the night before—officially to help the rush-hour commute, but politically to outshine the Democratic presidency.
Thirty-one years leader, California and an administration back in Washington are at it again—the difference this time being that the drama is occurring before the Golden State has recovered from a natural disaster, which doesn’t bode well for those Californians who lost possessions in the Los Angeles fires or worry about the ability of America’s elected class to set aside their partisan beefs in times of crisis.
Among the feature players in the 2025 edition of “As the California World Turns”:
President Donald Trump. Trump came out to the Golden State at the end of his first week back in office (preceded by a stop in North Carolina to check out the damage caused by Hurricane Helene).
Credit Trump for doing what we expect of presidents when disaster strikes: showing concern, promising Washington’s help in the community’s rebuilding.
Where he loses points: not having his facts straight.
The president connected Los Angeles’s water shortages to Sacramento’s refusal to allow, in his words, “millions of gallons of water, from excess rain and snow melt from the North, to flow daily into many parts of California, including the areas that are currently burning in a virtually apocalyptic way.” The Los Angeles region does indeed get some of its water from Lake Oroville, which is well north of Sacramento. But it also taps into the Colorado River and Lake Mead.
Moreover, Trump suggested that protecting one fish in particular, the delta smelt, was to blame for Los Angeles’s woes – the president going so far as to sign this executive order (title: “Putting People over Fish: Stopping Radical Environmentalism to Provide Water to Southern California”). As California water experts will tell you, that’s a red herring.
Governor Gavin Newsom. The Sacramento-based Newsom seemingly has never left Southern California since the fires first broke out early in the new year, rarely staying out of the news cycles.
And then Trump touched down in California, holding a Pacific Palisades roundtable late last week with residents and local officials—and no governor, as Newsom may or not have been invited.
But that didn’t stop Newsom from getting some presidential facetime. Before Trump headed off to the Palisades to inspect the fire damage, Newsom showed up uninvited at the airport and waited for Trump to disembark from Air Force One—which led to yet more psyops between the president and the governor as Newsom was left standing on the tarmac for a good 10 minutes or so before Trump emerged (I’ll leave it to body language experts to decipher what the rivals’ “Hollywood hug”—including a prolonged handshake that seemed a test of which politician would let go first—was all about).
To each’s credit, Newsom struck a contrite tone in Trump’s presence (“We’re going to need a lot of federal help”), while Trump sounded conciliatory (promising “to take care of things”).
The problem with this newfound comity: Old habits die hard. On the flight west to California, a White House press secretary told reporters: “Trump is always willing to work with anyone to solve problems on behalf of the American people. But certainly Gavin Newsom, or ‘Newscum’ as President Trump likes to call him, has wronged the people of his state.”
Mayor Karen Bass. Unlike Newsom, Los Angeles’s mayor did land a spot at the Palisades roundtable—two seats over from Trump and subject to repeated presidential lecturing over her city’s slow permitting process and refusal to let homeowners clean up the damage. (It could have been worse for the Bass if Trump had recited this devastating Los Angeles Times report on how the city ignored the warning signs coming from the Palisades’ beleaguered water system.)
One important distinction among Bass, Trump, and Newsom: Whereas the president and governor are term-limited, she’s not. As for her chances of garnering reelection in November 2026, more than half of Angelos contacted in a recent poll say they disapprove of her leadership; she trails by 7 points in a hypothetical matchup with fellow Democrat Rick Caruso, which would be a repeat of the city’s 2022 closely-contested mayoral race.
Sen. Adam Schiff. Think of California’s junior senator as a recurring actor in this soap opera, albeit with a new role: no longer pushing impeachment or Russian election meddling as a congressman, and now figuring how to be a productive member of his new congressional chamber. This is no easy feat, given that he’s in the Senate minority and Trump obviously is not an admirer.
Here, the plot gets murky: Schiff claims he was invited to travel to California with the president. Trump didn’t seem so sure, telling reporters: “I don’t know, is he going? I don’t know, I mean I really don’t. Because, if he was going to be there, it would be cheaper. But I didn’t invite him. Somebody did.”
But Schiff did not come back to his home state, with the rationale that he had to be in Washington to vote on Senate confirmations (not the solidest of excuses, as his “no” votes are irrelevant until such a time as four Republicans decide to join the Democratic minority to reject a presidential nominee).
Schiff’s absence did not stop him and California’s other senator, Alex Padilla, from adding these salty words to a statement that took Trump to task for binding election integrity to California disaster relief (the president saying no aid will go west unless the Golden State adopts a state voter ID law): “Let us be clear—leveraging disaster aid as a bargaining chip runs in stark contrast to how both Democrats and Republicans have responded to natural disasters for decades. Natural disasters don’t discriminate between red and blue states.”
And with these words, we begin the next installment of the California-Trump soap opera: Will federal disaster relief turn into a political tussle? That would include the president making a state voter ID law a condition for federal aid. Meanwhile, California Republican members reportedly have told House speaker Mike Johnson that the aid shouldn’t come with strings attached.
Such are the days of Californians’ lives: a cast of political characters who thrive on drama. And a population in Los Angeles likely more interested in results than rhetoric.
Is there any chance this show can go on hiatus?
