Amidst the recession, Pleitez landed a plum job at McKinsey & Company in Washington, the prestigious, global management-consulting firm. He joined boards and nonprofits, including Hispanic Heritage Foundation and the Salvadoran American Leadership and Educational Fund, and worked as a development assistant for the United Farm Workers Foundation.
His body man, Serna, a USC grad who met Pleitez while interning at Treasury, says, "Other than my dad, he was the first Latino I looked up to." Serna's Harvard-grad brother Richie, 24, left a well-paying gig at consultant firm Booz & Company to campaign full-time for Pleitez.
PHOTO BY TED SOQUI
Emanuel Pleitez
PHOTO BY TED SOQUI
Rebecca Pleitez with her husband, in a Boyle Heights meat market–turned–campaign HQ:
"It's about having
the best mayor right
now," she says.
Related Content
More About
Trying to explain Pleitez's attraction to the young, John Piotrowski, 26, a Wisconsin native who worked with Pleitez at McKinsey & Company, and now is his director of policy, says, "He pushed me to think about things more."
In 2009, Pleitez ran for office at age 26 in a special election for California Congressional District 32, challenging establishment candidates Judy Chu and Gil Cedillo. The unknown Pleitez came out of nowhere but won 13 percent in the primary to Chu's 32 percent and Cedillo's 23.
Then he met his wife, Rebecca, a Latina from Whittier, on a blind date in Washington, where Rebecca was a fellow for Rep. Lucille Roybal-Allard. They were married in El Sereno a year later. "We hit it off instantly," says Rebecca, 28. "He asked right away how many kids I wanted. That's why I thought he was very intense. But we really got along."
Uninspired by the mayoral field shaping up for 2013, Pleitez began to contemplate a run. "We need people to step up and do something and not step back when someone tells you how difficult it is," Rebecca says.
But Pleitez had landed the ultimate high-tech job — chief strategy officer at Pasadena-based Spokeo, the social network aggregator/search engine. He was pulling in a low-six-figure salary and owned an equity stake in the company, which meant that if Spokeo went public, Pleitez could get a very big check.
He gave it all up to run for mayor. "My mentors thought I was an idiot because I was an executive and had all the upsides in the world," Pleitez says. "It was crazy. ... But none of this stuff I have done has been for money."
Not everyone finds his thinking sound. "I admire his spunk," says veteran Democratic strategist Garry South, who is not involved in the 2013 mayoral campaigns, "but your numbers need to add up. You need to know what you're doing. Running a kiddie campaign just doesn't do it."
Far from being wealthy like Riordan, who spent $6 million from his personal fortune on his mayoral campaign, and not backed by rich L.A. public-employee unions, as are Greuel and Garcetti, Pleitez still owed $10,000 from his 2009 congressional run.
Without the cash to buy costly, $40,000-and-up "likely voter" contact lists, as do almost all leading mayoral candidates, Pleitez has used his Spokeo data-mining knowledge to find those voters' names, addresses and contact numbers himself. He went directly to state, county and city databases and bought the raw information — for $2,000 — then had his college-grad crowd crunch the numbers to devise their own, secret, high-propensity voter lists.
"I worked at a data company. I know how to do this," Pleitez says, describing his team as "much more tech-savvy and social media–savvy" than those of his mayoral rivals.
But the clincher was getting the Serna brothers, Piotrowski and their young colleagues to take a chance on him. Their payment would be a lowly $400 monthly stipend and free room and board in a gangbanger neighborhood in South Los Angeles.
It's Friday night — "Beer Night" at the Pleitez campaign's sleeping quarters in South L.A. Several young guys are standing in a circle outside the "back house" in which 12 male campaign staffers live. Booger the cat, a mascot who appears to be pregnant, is skulking around. Piotrowski and John Hill, Pleitez's 22-year-old communications director, who just finished at Harvard, are laughing. The young women staffers, for the most part, are hanging out in the front house.
Piotrowski, an easy-talking University of Virginia graduate who triple-majored in economics, history and math, found what they have dubbed "the house" last July. The two structures are on one lot, and both are furnished with mattresses, light stands and couches bought cheaply and quickly on Craigslist.
Normally, everyone is phone canvassing at campaign HQ in Boyle Heights or knocking on doors in Pico-Union, Watts, Lincoln Heights, Arlington Heights, Silver Lake, the east San Fernando Valley or Echo Park — but not on the Westside. Pleitez aims to win a chunk of the Latino vote, and there aren't enough rich pockets of "likely voter" Latinos in Westside haunts like West L.A., Brentwood or the Fairfax District.
The campaign staffers, known as "fellows," have spent time in some very heavy neighborhoods. "We've never had any problems with violence," Piotrowski says, "but that was always my biggest fear."
Besides friends and friends of friends, the fellows include scores of young people attracted by the online ads Pleitez ran — to a mass response. Pleitez's director of human services, Lupe Chavez, 24, who works with Rebecca Pleitez's younger sister, Laura Medina, to keep recruiting volunteers and fellows, says the response still surprises him: "How they found the fellowship is always a bit of a question."