John Burton’s Legacy of Caring and Cursing

[This column was reported for Political Breakdown, a bimonthly newsletter offering analysis and context on Bay Area and California political news. Click here to subscribe.]

Well before John Burton died on Sunday, an event marking the release of his memoir, I Yell Because I Care, was planned for Tuesday night. His death transformed a literary evening at the California Museum, a block from the Capitol, into a celebration of Burton’s life and legacy.

Even with the end-of-session crush looming, attendance was essentially de rigueur for members following in Burton’s footsteps.

“It’s really impossible to be here at this event and not feel the weight of loss of not having our friend, Mr. John Burton, with us,” Assembly Speaker Robert Rivas told the crowd. “He was family to all of us in public service. His presence, his voice, his heart filled every single room he entered.”

The son of a farmworker and the first Assembly speaker from the Salinas Valley, Rivas praised Burton’s insistence on standing up for the little guy.

“John was unapologetic. He was relentless. But he always used his power to fight for those with the least amount of power: Foster youth, farm workers, the poor, the overlooked, the voiceless,” Rivas said.

Willie Brown, who was first elected to the state Assembly in 1964 along with Burton, was there to remember the friend he met in 1951.

“John Burton, in the world of politics, meant a lot. But in the world of friendship, he meant even more,” Brown said. “He was a very, very difficult friend to satisfy, sometimes almost impossible, but for all the right reasons.”

At 91, Brown has attended many funerals of his contemporaries. The former Assembly speaker joked about his longevity as he walked into the event.

“I have, for a long time, wanted to make sure that I’d be around to say goodbye to everybody I ever met. And so far, I’m reaching that goal,” he said. “From the group of people whom I started with in 1964, when there were 10 of us, there’s one.” That would be him.

Burton’s daughter, Kimiko, remembered her father’s relentless focus on helping those who needed it most.

“For him, it was helping the downtrodden and the underdog. He really felt an obligation to help people who didn’t have a voice, who don’t have lobbyists,” she said.

There was an expectation that Gov. Gavin Newsom would speak. He arrived but did not enter the courtyard where the program was underway. Instead, he was spotted just outside, talking quietly with Kimiko Burton.

Afterward, I asked her what he said. “I love you,” she said, choking back tears.

“Our fathers were friends when we were children, and so when I had anticipated that my dad would be here, I texted Gavin and I said, ‘My dad wants you here not because you’re the governor but because you’re Billy’s son,’” she said, referring to Newsom’s late father, former Judge Bill Newsom. “We were just telling stories about when we were young and when our dads were younger.”

The Burton name has long carried weight in California politics. I arrived in California in 1981, and it wasn’t long before Burton caught my attention. In 1982, Burton, then one of the city’s congressional representatives, announced he would not seek re-election, choosing instead to come home and deal with his addiction to cocaine.

The following year, his older brother, Phil, a high-octane powerbroker in Washington, died suddenly of a heart attack. His widow, Sala Burton, replaced him in Congress. On her deathbed in 1987, Sala urged a young Nancy Pelosi to run for her seat in Congress to keep the Burton legacy alive. The rest, as they say, is history.

The “Burton machine” wielded outsize influence on who represented San Francisco in both Washington, D.C. and Sacramento. Led by Phil, the Burtons mastered the art of gerrymandering — drawing districts to maximize the number of Democrats elected.

At a time when critics say Democrats have lost touch with working-class and non-college-educated voters, Burton spent his entire career laser-focused on those who needed government’s help most.

In 2017, as he was stepping down as chair of the state Democratic Party, I asked Burton how he wanted to be remembered. After a long pause, he said:

“That when I left Sacramento, poor people and blind, disabled and women on what they used to call welfare, had more money than they had when I came in,” Burton said, adding, “I just tried to do the best I could for people. If you’re in a position of power or influence, you take care of those who ain’t got it, who don’t have the power. They don’t have anybody but you or somebody fighting for them.”

Another event celebrating Burton’s memoir is scheduled for Sept. 17 at 5:30 p.m. at Bimbo’s 365 Club in San Francisco.