California has tried all manner of design in choosing its governor.
Democrat Gray Davis, to name a recent example, had an extensive background in government and politics and a bland demeanor that suggested his first name was also a fitting adjective.
Republican Arnold Schwarzenegger, by contrast, was a novice candidate who ran for governor on a whim. His super-sized action hero persona dazzled Californians like the pyrotechnics in one of his Hollywood blockbusters.
In the end, however, their political fates were the same. Both left office humbled, burdened with lousy poll numbers and facing a well of deep voter discontent.
(Schwarzenegger, at least, departed on his own terms. He chased Davis from the Capitol in an extraordinary recall and won reelection before his approval ratings tanked during his second term.)
There are roughly a dozen major candidates for California governor in 2026 and, taken together, they lack even a small fraction of Schwarzenegger’s celebrity wattage.
Nor do any have the extensive Sacramento experience of Davis, who was a gubernatorial chief of staff under Jerry Brown before serving in the Legislature, then winning election as state controller and lieutenant governor.
That’s not, however, to disparage those running.
The contestants include a former Los Angeles mayor, Antonio Villaraigosa; three candidates who’ve won statewide office, former Attorney General Xavier Becerra, schools Superintendent Tony Thurmond and former Controller Betty Yee; two others who gained national recognition during their time in Congress, Katie Porter and Eric Swalwell; and Riverside County’s elected sheriff, Chad Bianco.
The large field offers an ample buffet from which to choose.
The rap on this particular batch of hopefuls is they’re a collective bore, which, honestly, seems a greater concern to those writing and spitballing about the race than a reflection of some great upwelling of citizens clamoring for bread and circuses.
In scores of conversations with voters over the past year, the sentiment that came through, above all, was a sense of practicality and pragmatism. (And, this being a blue bastion, no small amount of horror, fear and loathing directed at the vengeful and belligerent Trump administration.)
It’s never been more challenging and expensive to live in California, a place of great bounty that often exacts in dollars and stress what it offers in opportunity and wondrous beauty.
With a governor seemingly more focused on his personal agenda, a 2028 bid for president, than the people who put him in office, many said they’d like to replace Gavin Newsom with someone who will prioritize California and their needs above his own.
That means a focus on matters such as traffic, crime, fire prevention, housing and homelessness. In other words, pedestrian stuff that doesn’t light up social media or earn an invitation to hold forth on one of the Beltway chat shows.
“Why does it take so long to do simple things?” asked one of those voters, the Bay Area’s Michael Duncan, as he lamented his pothole-ridden, 120-mile round-trip commute between Fairfield and an environmental analyst job in Livermore.
The answer is not a simple one.
Politics are messy, like any human endeavor. Governing is a long and laborious process, requiring study, deliberation and the weighing of competing forces. Frankly, it can be rather dull.
Certainly the humdrum of legislation or bureaucratic rule-marking is nothing like the gossipy speculation about who may or may not bid to lead California as its 41st governor.
Why else was so much coverage devoted to whether Sen. Alex Padilla would jump into the gubernatorial race — he chose not to — and the possible impact his entry would have on the contest, as opposed to, say, his thinking on CEQA or FMAP?
(The former is California’s much-contested Environmental Quality Act; the latter is the formula that determines federal reimbursement for Medi-Cal, the state’s healthcare program for low-income residents.)
Just between us, political reporters tend to be like children in front of a toy shop window. Their bedroom may be cluttered with all manner of diversion and playthings, but what they really want is that shiny, as-yet unattained object — Rick Caruso! — beckoning from behind glass.
Soon enough, once a candidate has entered the race, boredom sets in and the speculation and desire for someone fresh and different starts anew. (Will Attorney General Rob Bonta change his mind and run for governor?)
For their part, many voters always seem to be searching for some idealized candidate who exists only in their imagination.
Someone strong, but not dug in. Willing to compromise, but never caving to the other side. Someone with the virginal purity of a political outsider and the intrinsic capability of an insider who’s spent decades cutting deals and keeping the government wheels spinning.
They look over their choices and ask, in the words of an old song, is that all there is? (Spoiler alert: There are no white knights out there.)
Donald Trump was, foremost, a celebrity before his burst into politics. First as a denizen of New York’s tabloid culture and then as the star of TV’s faux-boardroom drama, “The Apprentice.”
His pizzazz was a large measure of his appeal, along with his manufactured image as a shrewd businessman with a kingly touch and infallible judgment.
His freewheeling political rallies and frothy social media presence were, and continue to be, a source of great glee to his fans and followers.
His performance as president has been altogether different, and far less amusing.
If the candidates for California governor fail to light up a room, that’s not such a bad thing. Fix the roads. Make housing more affordable. Help keep the place from burning to the ground.
Leave the fun and games to the professionals.
Mark Z. Barabak is a columnist for the Los Angeles Times, focusing on politics in California and the West. ©2026 Los Angeles Times. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency.
Leave a Reply