But in the late 1980s and early '90s, El Sereno spiraled into the gang wars that gripped L.A., the bloodiest time in city history. Scared, good kids joined the gangs for protection — and many were shot dead for walking through rival turf. Isabel never feared that Emanuel would join. Instead, she worried that he was too good a kid. "He didn't think what was going to happen to him," she says, remembering his bids to calm down the action on their street. "I tried to tell him, but he said, 'Mom, if I'm going to die doing good, that's OK.' "
One day, Pleitez was playing Nintendo with his friend Arthur when gunshots rang out. Outside, they saw his friend's brother lying on the sidewalk — alive but riddled with bullets. "It was one of the first things I experienced" in El Sereno, Pleitez says. "It's funny, all of my vivid memories are shootings."
PHOTO BY TED SOQUI
Michael Serna on Pleitez: "Other than my dad, he was the first Latino I looked up to."
PHOTO BY TED SOQUI
John Piotrowski: "I thought it was a helluva challenge."
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Pleitez's neighbors, the Montenegros, lost two sons to gang violence. Many acquaintances and friends were murdered. His best friend in middle school, David Guerrero, was shot dead in 2004, even as he was trying to rebuild his life. Pleitez got the news while at Stanford.
Daniel Chaidez, 35, a neighbor who was involved with a gang for a few years, first met Pleitez while practicing basketball at the outdoor courts at Sierra Park Elementary. Chaidez didn't want the gang life — and he was dead sure it wasn't for Pleitez. As Chaidez, who got away from gang involvement long ago, tells it: "We told him to keep out of trouble — 'Rather than hit the streets, do your homework.' We considered ourselves his older brothers. Gangs didn't fit his persona."
That intervention by street-tough peers, coaches and teachers worked. "It happened to me on several occasions," Pleitez says. "That's why you need more people to stand up and look someone in the eyes and say something positive."
Pleitez became senior class president at Woodrow Wilson High School, where he was named All-League Team MVP for basketball and volleyball and Most Inspirational Player and All-League Football Player. He won academic scholarships to pay for college, and chose Stanford.
Fascinated by politics as a university student in 2002, Pleitez, then 19, approached 31-year-old Eric Garcetti, newly elected to L.A. City Council District 13. "I had high hopes for him" 11 years ago, says Pleitez, who wanted a mentor.
Instead, Pleitez struck up a relationship with Villaraigosa, a rising Latino star who represented L.A. City Council District 14, which covers El Sereno. In 2003, Pleitez took off the fall quarter of his sophomore year, moved home and worked full-time in Villaraigosa's field office. Pleitez sometimes got calls in the middle of night from his boss, telling him they had to drive to a murder site — to console a family.
"Now, looking at it from a public-service perspective, there was value in Antonio being there," Pleitez says. "It showed that these neighborhoods would not be forgotten and someone was paying attention. But it was always very sad."
Pleitez says that as a councilman, Villaraigosa was "better than all the other council members when it came to 'constituent service.' " But there were fundamental choices made by Villaraigosa that he didn't want to replicate: Villaraigosa "didn't have as much business acumen," Pleitez says, taking his policy cues mostly from labor-union bosses. "If you just come from the political world only," he says of Villaraigosa's union-organizer career before elective office, "you ask, 'Who supports a project, and who doesn't?' rather than 'What's the best solution?' "
Then in 2005, during Villaraigosa's bitterly fought and ultimately successful effort to wrest the mayor's seat from incumbent Mayor James Hahn, Pleitez, 22, was in the catbird seat — a special assistant who drove the hyperactive Villaraigosa around. "He'd sometimes emphatically pound his hand on the dash if I missed a turn or shortcut he knew about," he recalls. But he's coy about what he saw and heard, as he worked seven days a week — sometimes late into the night — driving Villaraigosa, who sat in the passenger seat and talked incessantly on his cellphone.
"Getting to hear all the conversations with top donors and top labor leaders and how he negotiated with them was invaluable," Pleitez says. "I saw him at his highest moments and his lowest."
One of Pleitez's campaign promises — which his young staffers support — is to wade into the political mess that is the L.A. city worker pension deal. Pleitez thinks Richard Riordan's idea — to make current city workers pay more toward their pensions and make new city hires enroll in a 401(k)-style savings system — is "moving in the right direction." The city government unions emphatically oppose it.
Pleitez also strongly backs the controversial California Parent Trigger law, which allows parents to take over persistently bad public schools through petition — and hire a new staff or turn the school into a charter. Parent Trigger is gaining traction in some of California's poorest communities.
With his urban studies degree from Stanford in 2006, Pleitez became an analyst at Goldman Sachs, which skims the cream from Ivy League schools, and soon was hired away as a special assistant in the U.S. Treasury, working on President Barack Obama's Economic Recovery Advisory Board under Volcker. "I was blessed to be coming from nothing and engaging with one of the most renowned economists in the world, and the president," Pleitez says. "It was mind-boggling. At the same time, I knew many of my friends back home would ... never get there. I also felt I had to shine, because I felt I represented a lot of people — people from poor backgrounds, and minorities."