Standing at their election tables outside a Wilmington recreation center, the political rivals glared at one another.
Alejandra Rodriguez’s performance featured informational pamphlets about her and a framed poster of her in front of her. Banning Museum. Her furious mother told anyone who would listen why Rodriguez should become Wilmington’s next honorary mayor.
Alicia Baltazar and her son received free chips, homemade mini-muffins, and His Her own campaign poster: a portrait in front of the shipping cranes that serve as the southern horizon for the port community. But she had one problem: The poster kept falling off a thin cardboard stand.
Rodriguez went there and set up a small metal A-frame.
“Thank you!” said the grateful Baltazar.
“Thank you You!Rodriguez, 38, said with a genuine smile.
Baltazar, 46, told me, “See what I mean? We are running together, against each other!”
Alejandra Rodriguez (left) and Alicia Baltazar clap during a ceremony to proclaim the honorary mayor of Wilmington on June 27, 2024, in Wilmington.
(Michael Blackshear/Los Angeles Times)
The encounter was typical of one of the most positive political races in Southern California.
For the past 70 years, Wilmington residents have competed to become honorary mayor of the blue-collar community. The winner receives a two-year term with no salary, no staff and no political power. No votes are cast; no political action committee is formed.
The position is a relic of a time when dozens of Los Angeles communities appointed nominal chiefs for promotional purposes—usually movie and television stars such as Steve Allen (Encino), Roy Rogers (Studio City), and Johnny Grant (Hollywood), who lived or worked in the area and whose job was mostly to take photographs during parades and grand openings.
Like Wilmington, which was once its own separate city before becoming part of Los Angeles in 1909, these communities were not incorporated, so they did not have traditional mayors or city councils.
According to a 1965 Times article, at one point the honorary mayors formed an organization that aimed to “serve a more useful and functional purpose for our communities and the City of Los Angeles.”
According to reports, by 2001 at least 20 communities had elected honorary mayors. A Times article from that yearNowadays, there are just a handful of locations left, including Wilmington, San Pedro, Pacific Palisades, and Woodland Hills, where former L.A. Council member Dennis Zine holds the position.
“Part of it has always been pageantry — the Sunshine State and the Sunshine City,” says Jaime Regalado, professor emeritus of political science at Cal State L.A., who traces the tradition back to the 1920s and the rise of Hollywood. “But I don’t think that matters anymore. Cities have grown over time, and they’ve found that the role doesn’t bring the prestige it used to.”
Wilmington has always distinguished itself by inspiring its honorary mayors to work for the honor.
Candidates attend community events, hold fundraisers, stand on street corners, knock on doors, and ask wealthy individuals and companies for a dollar or more — just like a real political campaign. The winner is the one who raises the most money for the local nonprofit of their choice, mostly by selling $1 tickets.
“We’re really old-school,” Monica Diaz, chief executive of the Wilmington Chamber of Commerce, responded when I asked why the city still does this. “It’s a friendly competition, but we’re talking about people who are representing their organizations very passionately. It’s a way to build local leadership, above all.”
This year’s honorary mayor will be announced at an event at the Wilmington Chamber of Commerce on Sept. 26. In 2018, the last time this election was held, the candidates collectively raised $41,200.
When I asked Diaz about any perks for the winner this time around, he mentioned riding in a convertible as the parade’s grand marshal and free admission to Chamber of Commerce events. He added, “I think we might even make a sash!”
I saw Baltazar and Rodriguez in action last month. summer night lights The event was held in parks across the city by the Los Angeles Mayor’s Office of Gang Reduction and Youth Development.
Baltazar, who calls herself a “child of the military,” sees running for honorary mayor as a way to give back to the community where she has lived the longest — nine years. She is raising funds for Tianguis Cultural, which holds night markets in Wilmington and San Pedro.
“I love that my son can’t leave school without someone to call. If my tire gets punctured, someone will help,” said Baltazar, who is a community activist and parent leader and sits on Los Angeles Unified board member Tanya Ortiz Franklin’s advisory committee. “I want to build a village for my son, and Wilmington offers to do that.”
She stayed quiet. “I almost want to lose so I can run again and raise even more money.”
Rodriguez is campaigning for Wilmington Teen CenterWhere she often went, as it was opposite her family’s apartment.
She wanted to run in 2018. But, she said, “I didn’t think I had a chance to win. This time, I realized it’s not about who wins, because at the end of the day, everybody wins.”
Alicia Baltazar (right) talks to Kevin Carle while checking out her T-shirts made to raise funds for her campaign at Calimucho Screen Printing in San Pedro on Sept. 16, 2024.
(Michael Blackshear/Los Angeles Times)
Technically she was not campaigning at Summer Night Lights, as she was serving as a district representative for Los Angeles City Council member Tim McOsker, who represents Wilmington.
But her boss allowed her to visit her mother from time to time to see how ticket sales were going.
“No, I’m not endorsing anybody!” McOsker said with a laugh, although he did donate $1,000 from his office committee account to each of the four candidates: Rodriguez, Baltazar, Eric R. Ojeda Garcia and Cindy Guerrero.
“It’s the least efficient way to raise money in the world — a ticket for a dollar!” said McCosker. “You’re just giving yourself away for free.”
The council member is from San Pedro, where a similar race is also taking place for honorary mayor.
“Building community is very important,” he said. “It’s a lesson for us (politicians): stay close to the people you want to serve.”
At first, no one paid any attention to Baltazar or Rodriguez at Summer Night Lights. Children were running on the grass or drawing at the art table. Mothers were chatting at picnic tables. People were walking their dogs. Men were playing basketball inside the gym; families were standing in line near the big grill for free nachos and burgers.
A man, holding a plate of two cheeseburgers, eventually approached Rodriguez’s table, and told her mother, Graciela Sepulveda, that he didn’t care about politics.
“Well, you can still give a dollar,” Sepulveda replied in Spanish. “If you don’t help, things like this won’t continue.”
The man, who declined to give his name, walked away, saying he didn’t believe in anything. Sepulveda shrugged. “He’s losing everything!”
Soon after, a woman approached Baltazar and then quickly walked away.
When I asked what happened, Baltazar replied disappointedly, “That’s my great weakness – I don’t speak Spanish.”
But after sunset, ticket sales began to pick up, and the adults began to realize what the race for honorary mayor was really about.
Rita Anaya bought two from Baltazar. “It’s a really nice thing,” the Wilmington resident said in Spanish. “I really liked his performance.”
The next participant was Alejandra Cervantes, who had never heard of the race even though she had lived in Wilmington for over 20 years.
“It’s a great idea,” he said in Spanish. “Politics is always about breaking people and gaining power, and people get tired of that. But politics where you only help? I can support that.”
Cervantes then purchased two tickets from Sepulveda, who was doing a great deed for his daughter.
But free, delicious muffins will beat pamphlets any day. When I was ready to leave, Rodriguez had sold 25 tickets to Baltazar’s 56.
The difference did not dampen Rodriguez’s spirits. At one point, Milvia Coloma approached Baltazar and spoke in Spanish. The candidate quietly gestured to Rodriguez for help.
Once again, Rodriguez gladly helped him. He explained how the honorary mayor’s race worked to Coloma, who couldn’t understand why rivals would help each other. Didn’t they both want the same thing?
“It’s a good thing to collaborate for good things,” Rodriguez said. Coloma agreed.
“Okay, give me five,” she said to Baltazar. And then she walked over to Rodriguez’s booth and bought five more.
