Affirmative Action for U.C. Regents and Students
Wardell Anthony Connerly was born on June 15, 1939, in Leesville, Louisiana, into an African American family with a
mixture of Indian, Irish, and French Creole blood. "Nobody ever gave me any race or sex preferences when I came into the cold fifty-six years ago,"[70]
The quote continues: "And I made it anyway—high school, college, my own big business, important friends. If I could make it, anybody can, because the playing field is a lot closer to level now. The truth is that preferences at this point are not just reverse discrimination, they're degrading to people who accept them. They've got to go." B. Drummond Ayres, "Fighting Affirmative Action, He Finds His Race an Issue," New York Times, April 18, 1996, p. A1.
Connerly recalled. Although that changed later in his life, it was true in his early years. Connerly's maternal grandmother, Mary Soniea, owned a small restaurant in Leesville, but Grace, her daughter, never did as well. When Connerly was two, his parents divorced. Soon after, Grace Connerly met William Parker, an enlisted man from New York. They married on the day before Valentine's Day 1943, but by the end of the year, Grace was dead from injuries that she had sustained in a car accident.[71]In the retelling of even these details to the press, Connerly changed some of them. To a reporter at the Sacramento Bee, he said that both his parents had died by the time he was four years old. He told me in 1995 that his parents had divorced, that his father was still alive, and that his stepfather had pursued custody. When he talked to a New York Times reporter in the summer of 1997, he never mentioned his stepfather or a custody battle and expressed surprise at learning that his father was still alive and had filed a custody suit.
Connerly was left to his grandmother, but not without a fight. His father, Roy, was still around, and he filed a custody suit. The charges made back and forth between Roy and Mary Soniea were not pleasant.[72]
The details on the custody suit come from papers filed by Roy Connerly and Mary Soniea in the 11th Judicial District Court, Vernon Parish, Louisiana, December 1945.
Roy Connerly accused his child's grandmother of mistreating the child, and his mother-in-law shot back with charges that her son-in-law was a drunk and abusive. Roy's interest in his child, Mary Soniea charged in papers filed by her lawyers, came from the $30 a month his stepfather was sending the child and the fact that Parker had named the young Ward as a beneficiary on his $10,000 life insurance policy. The truth of any of this was never cleared up by the courts, but most important to the young Connerly was the court's decision to give custody to his grandmother.When Mary Soniea won, she sent Ward to live with her sister Bertha and Bertha's husband, John Lewis. They lived first in Washington, and then later they moved to Sacramento. Along the way, Connerly took to his uncle. "My uncle didn't have more than a second-grade education, but his work ethic was unbelievable," said Connerly. "He'd pile lumber up in the saw mills in California, he dug ditches. He always said you could know the mark of a person by his car, his shoes, and his lawn. Every weekend we'd mow the lawn, wash the car, and shine our shoes."[73]
Ward Connerly, interview, August 30, 1995.
When Ward was nine years old, his grandmother sold her restaurant and moved to California. She had saved enough money to build her own house on thecorner of Grant and Branch Streets in the working-class Sacramento neighborhood of Del Paso Heights. Ward went from living with a model of the work ethic to the home of a woman who believed that a young man needed only two things to succeed—the Bible and his schoolbooks. She drummed home the importance of both. "She had a saying for everything," Connerly said. "It used to drive me crazy."[74]
Ibid.
Through 1995 and 1996, Connerly retold stories of his upbringing to reporters who walked away with the distinct impression that it had been a difficult one—he talked about having nothing to eat but sweet potatoes, having to work before his teens, and going to school with holes in his shoes. But in May 1997, A. Lin Neumann, a freelance writer for San Francisco Focus Magazine , discovered that Connerly's extended family based in Sacramento disagreed about just how poor it had been.[75]
A. Lin Neumann, "I Am Not African-American," San Francisco Focus Magazine, May 1997, p. 58.
Elizabeth Stansberry, Connerly's cousin and also a Republican, and Connerly's seventy-six-year-old uncle, Arthur Soniea, didn't so much disagree that Connerly had been raised modestly—it was a matter of degrees. Most of his relatives were homeowners, they said, and they made sure Mary Soniea had the money to raise Connerly. "Our family took care of one another," Stansberry said. "All the cousins including Ward had Schwinn bikes and we all had our own plate of food at the table."[76]Elizabeth Stansberry, interview, September 16, 1997.
Connerly's uncle Arthur added, "I don't dislike the guy but I dislike what he's said about having nothing to eat. They're all lies." When told a story that Connerly had repeated about not having a car, Arthur Soniea was disgusted. "My wife and I co-signed a loan for him to have a car when he graduated from high school."[77]Arthur Soniea, interview, September 19, 1997.
Soniea said the whole press ordeal had not been pleasant for the family. His sister, Bertha, who backed some of Connerly's stories, was no longer talking to him.Elizabeth Stansberry had answers as to why the successful Sacramento businessman was so confused about his upbringing. "Wardell hates being black, and his grandmother 'tolerated' black people," she told Neumann. "She thought she was better than black people." Once this news broke, it was not
long before Connerly's psyche became material for a long profile in the New York Times , and by the fall of 1997, 60 Minutes was working on a Connerly program. Connerly's answer to the relatives who disagreed with his version of his early life in Sacramento was to call them liars. Elizabeth Stansberry had another take on Connerly's revisions: "My cousin is narcissistically disordered," she said. "Ward has lied so much that I think he believes his own lies. Ward always disliked being a child of color. He thinks he's white."[78]
Elizabeth Stansberry, interview, September 16, 1997.
Indeed, Connerly seemed confused about his own heritage. He would tell some reporters that his grandmother was a full-blooded Choctaw Indian, others that she was a mixture of Creole and French, and still others that he was actually more Irish than anything else. Although Connerly may have viewed himself as multiethnic, the world around him and those who enlisted his help to combat affirmative action looked at him and saw a black man—smart, capable, and black.Connerly finished high school with the grades to get into the University of California. But that was a world too far away from Del Paso. He first went to the American River Junior College and later transferred to Sacramento State. The young student worked full time selling clothes, studied political theory, became student body president, and graduated in 1962. The Monday following graduation, Connerly, a registered Democrat, began work at the California Redevelopment Agency. Three years later he went to work at the Department of Housing and Community Development. Connerly never considered the private sector. "Back in the sixties if you were black and you graduated from college, you felt the option available was the government," Connerly said.[79]
Ward Connerly, interview, August 30, 1995.
As it turned out, he was in exactly the right place in Sacramento: the young orphan from Del Paso was about to meet the man who would become his friend and mentor—though he was almost Connerly's polar image in terms of background.Whereas Connerly felt obliged to become a civil servant, Pete Wilson, who was six years older than Connerly and
considerably more privileged, had options. Born in Lake Forest, Illinois, on August 23, 1933, Wilson was in grade school when his family moved to St. Louis, where his father worked as an advertising executive and his mother, a former model, stayed home. Wilson attended the all-boys St. Louis Country Day School, and then went to Yale on an ROTC scholarship. After doing his time in the Marine Corps as a commissioned infantry officer, Wilson headed west and entered the University of California's Boalt Hall School of Law. It was an era when competition to get into Boalt was minimal for men from good schools. Wilson was an indifferent student, but it hardly mattered to his career that it took him four times to pass the state bar exam. The young man was more interested in politics than the law. He worked on Richard Nixon's failed gubernatorial bid in 1962. And then, on the advice of his law school roommate, John Davies, Wilson settled in San Diego and practiced law while assessing his own prospects.
In 1965, the same year Connerly went to the Department of Housing, Wilson decided to campaign for a seat in the assembly, and he won. Two years later, the thirty-four-year-old assemblyman was appointed head of the new Assembly Committee on Urban Affairs and Housing. He heard from others in the public housing sector that the twenty-eight-year-old Connerly was an up-and-comer, and he wanted him to work for the committee as its chief consultant. Twice Connerly turned down Wilson's offer. Although Wilson later denied it, Connerly felt then that part of Wilson's motive in pursuing him had to do with his skin color. "The governor says no, but I have my own view, I think it weighed into the equation," Connerly said in 1995.[80]
Ward Connerly, interview, May 7, 1996.
Connerly played hard-to-get. Only when Wilson finally raised the salary did Connerly accept. It wasn't the money—that raise had to be cleared by another committee—but Wilson's talk of Connerly's chance to affect policy that did the trick, according to Connerly.[81]Ibid.
While others had underestimated Connerly, Wilson didn't. Early in their relationship Wilson asked Connerly what he
wanted to do after working on the committee. Connerly didn't hesitate to respond. He wanted to go back to the Department of Housing and work his way up to division manager. "How can you be so limiting?" Wilson asked. "I was kind of taken aback by that," said Connerly. "I never thought about it. I guess government is sort of a safe haven for blacks. We guess we are going to get an equal shot at government jobs and I didn't have that same level of faith in the private sector."[82]
Ward Connerly, interview, August 30, 1995.
Wilson told him he should consider going into business for himself. Connerly thought, What is he smoking?[83]Ibid.
The conversation was a turning point in Connerly's life. Connerly liked Wilson enough to declare himself a Republican in 1969,[84]Connerly said when he went to work for the housing department, he reregistered to vote and declined to state any party affiliation.
and the Yalie and the Sac State graduate became bound by a friendship made more powerful by the promise each held. The friendship had an emotional overlay, as well. Wilson never had children of his own and Connerly had been fatherless from an early age. Although his uncle John Lewis had been a powerful role model, Lewis lacked the sophistication to counsel Connerly in his professional aspirations. Wilson fulfilled these needs. "All these things played a role in our friendship," Connerly later acknowledged.[85]Ward Connerly, interview, August 30, 1995.
When Wilson left Sacramento to run for mayor of San Diego, he asked his friend to follow him. Connerly declined and returned to the Housing Department. His time in the legislature, however, had been well spent. He had made valuable contacts. Furthermore, a Wilson-authored 1967 bill that amended the laws that govern local planning gave Connerly an idea for a new business.[86]
The housing plans are referred to as housing elements and are one of seven elements cities and counties must include in their general plan.
The law required local government entities—counties and cities—to include an affordable housing blueprint in their long-range plans.[87]The condition for an affordable housing plan is one of eight elements, including transportation and schooling, that are required in local housing plans.
Connerly left government and started Connerly and Associates, which consulted for local governments that needed to fulfill the change in the planning laws. The business thrived, and as Wilson moved from the mayor's office to the U.S. Senate and then to the governor's mansion, Connerly returned Wilson's early faith with generous campaign contributions.It wasn't, however, only the $108,000 in campaign contributions from Connerly and Associates that brought Connerly's name to the fore when the governor was ready to make appointments to the Board of Regents.[88]
Policy analyst Kim Alexander, Common Cause.
Connerly's skin color also played a role, according to Connerly and others. A year earlier, the governor had appointed John Davies, his law school roommate and longtime friend, to the Board of Regents. The twenty-six regents—eighteen of whom are appointed by the governor—oversee one of the world's premier public university systems. Although the regent's post pays nothing, it is considered one of the plums in the governor's bag of political patronage.Liberal assemblymen didn't much like the Davies appointment when it was made, and as the time approached to confirm the wealthy San Diego lawyer, they came to like it even less. In the year Davies had been sitting on the board, the regents had made some decisions that left critics wondering whether the board's members were too far removed from the lives of students and faculty. Of most concern was a decision supported by a majority of the board, including Davies, to award former U.S. president David Gardner a generous severance package at the same time that budget constraints had pushed the regents to raise student fees. State legislators, Common Cause, the Latino Issues Forum, and the National Organization for Women promised a revolt over the Davies confirmation. The appointment of another white male millionaire, they argued, would not broaden the board's outlook.
Wilson wanted Davies, but he also understood the need to appease his critics. He had little choice. A 1974 revision of the state constitution required the Board of Regents to reflect California's "economic, cultural, and social diversity … including minorities and women."[89]
Louis Freedberg, San Francisco Chronicle, February 28, 1993, p. A13.
As of 1993, the board's eighteen appointees included twelve white men, one Asian American, two Latinos, four women, and one black.[90]Dana Wilkie, San Diego Union-Tribune, February 24, 1993, p. A4.
With pressure building on the Senate Rules Committee, which confirms appointments, Wilson cut a deal. If the committee approvedDavies, Wilson would fill further vacancies with women and minorities.[91]
Stephanie Rubin, a consultant to the Select Committee on Higher Education, interview, October 1996.
One of the governor's first diversity appointees was Connerly. In a sense, the Connerly appointment reflected Supreme Court Justice Powell's recommendations on affirmative action in the Bakke case. Connerly was entirely qualified—he had proven himself a capable businessman—but race was among the many factors that Wilson considered. "The external pressure to make the board more diverse caused the governor to focus on me," Connerly acknowledged, while adding that it is an appointment that he could have asked for and received at any time. "The external pressure caused Wilson to say I am going to have to lean on Ward to take this, and he did kind of lean on me," Connerly recalled.[92]Ward Connerly, interview, May 7, 1996.
If the critics of the Davies appointment weren't completely happy, they could hardly object. Even though Connerly was another Wilson crony, he was one who had been raised in a different world. With one member absent, the Senate Rules Committee approved Connerly's appointment four to zero in February 1994, and the full Senate followed with a thirty-seven to zero vote of approval. Little did they know that Connerly would prove to be Wilson's Trojan horse.Connerly's early actions on the board quickly indicated that he would become an outspoken ally of U.C.'s 162,000 students and faculty.[93]
Editorial, Los Angeles Times, January 9, 1994.
He voted against fee hikes, closely questioned all financial decisions, and in January 1994, he wrote an open letter sharply criticizing his fellow regents for being too anxious to please U.C. administrators and approve every measure presented by U.C. President Peltason. "If we subscribe to this view, there is no reason for us to meet," he wrote. The board, Connerly argued, failed to give faculty and students enough time and consideration. Connerly's opinions at meetings were just as strong. He dared to question matters that had been considered off-limits: one of them was affirmative action. It was Connerly's interest in this issue and his willingness to work extra hours on university business that led Chairman Clair Burgener to suggest in August 1994 that the new regentmeet with Jerry Cook, a statistician and lecturer at the private University of San Diego, and his wife, Ellen, an accounting professor. "It was an admissions problem," Burgener said as he recalled his role in the meeting, adding that he believed Connerly would be helpful in explaining to Cook why his son had been rejected. "I thought that it would be constructive. I knew that Connerly had an interest. He's a minority. I never had any idea of how far he intended to go."[94]
Clair Burgener, interview, June 10, 1996.
Burgener and those who testified on Connerly's behalf during the hearings on his appointment as a regent might well have known if they had bothered to read the Sacramento Bee closely. Soon after Wilson was elected governor in 1990, the Sacramento Bee focused on some of the conservative African American businessmen who had supported Wilson. By this time, Connerly had been named to a few committees, represented several construction associations, and had developed an unusual position toward minority contracting. Although his own business had registered as a minority firm to take advantage of minority contracts—a step Connerly said he was forced into taking to protect business he already had—he disliked the preferences. "I'm opposed to it [affirmative action]," Connerly told the Bee in 1991. "For me it's the ultimate insult. I don't need any brownie points from anybody. I don't want any from anybody. And to my knowledge we have never taken advantage of it."[95]
Fahizah Alim, "A Different Minority," Sacramento Bee, July 12, 1991, p. 81.
In the same year that Connerly was publicly speaking against affirmative action in contracting, Cook's son James, a sixteen-year-old graduate of U.C. San Diego, applied to five University of California medical schools. When young Cook was rejected by all five schools, his father decided to find out why. The average age of those admitted was twenty-five and a half,[96]
Terry Lightfoot, University of California spokesperson.
and while his son's age was an obvious stumbling block, his father saw it differently. As he put it: "I walked across the street where they keep the records of people who apply to medical school. I bring the records home and it takes me five minutes to conclude that it wasn't about my son."[97]Jerry Cook, interview, 1996.
Cook found that Latinos with lower grade point averages andtest scores were three and a half times more likely than whites and Asians to gain acceptance at Davis. Blacks with similarly low numbers were over two and a half times more likely to be admitted. The University of California's medical school admissions, Cook concluded, violated the Supreme Court's 1978 Bakke decision on affirmative action. That decision said the university could consider race as a factor in deciding whether to admit a student—as long as it was not the only or the primary factor. Even though the university's lawyers saw it differently, Cook decided that in the medical schools' admissions policies, race had become the ultimate deciding factor and he wasted no time in going to the authorities. By July 1994 the University of California's lawyers issued their report: in it they argued that the medical schools had complied with Bakke —that all of the applicants had been considered by one committee and that no slots had been set aside for underrepresented minorities. Cook was unsatisfied. "It was a pure slap in the face," he said. "I called this guy Burgener and said this is all garbage, and he said, 'What did you expect them to say?' He said, 'You should meet Regent Connerly.'"[98]
Ibid.
Cook and his wife flew up to Sacramento and were ushered into the white clapboard Victorian on Twenty-first Street where Connerly and his wife, Ilene, have their consulting business. "We sit down in this room and this black man walks in and I look up and think, 'Oh God,'" Cook said later.[99]
Ibid.
He had been unaware that Connerly was black. "He sits down and I pull out the data. I was afraid that he was going to pick me up and beat the crap out of me," recalled Cook. Instead, Connerly proved to be as disturbed by the data as Cook himself.Connerly didn't like what he heard, and he spoke privately that summer with Wilson, U.C. President Jack Peltason, and other regents. Although Wilson had been a longtime supporter of affirmative action, his discussions with Connerly began to have an impact. In the summer of 1994, though, the governor was too busy with his reelection campaign to pay much attention to affirmative action.
Connerly, however, had plenty of time, and he was way ahead of the governor in thinking about the university's use of race as a criterion in its admissions decisions. He'd already made up his mind when Wood and Custred attended the State Assembly's Judiciary Committee meeting on August 10, 1994, to hear testimony on Assemblyman Bernie Richter's proposed bill to ban affirmative action. "There was a time when affirmative action had a value," Connerly told the standing-room-only audience that included Custred and Wood. "There was discrimination in all sectors of California and we needed some sort of shock treatment. The time has come to take off the training wheels."
Richter's bill failed to make it out of the committee, and despite support from conservative commentators like William Rusher and Patrick Buchanan, Custred and Wood could not attract the money they needed to run their initiative campaign. Instead, they began to talk to Connerly, and they watched as Proposition 187 began to gather momentum. Ultimately, it became the defining issue of the 1994 elections and cut the electoral path for CCRI.