Among the small group of candidates eyeing the California governorship, no one seems more qualified than Tony Atkins.
After serving on the San Diego City Council, she headed to Sacramento, where Atkins led the Assembly and state Senate, becoming one of only three people in history and the first in 147 years to serve as speaker of either house of the California Legislature.
She negotiated eight state budgets with two governors and passed major legislation on abortion rights, help for low-income families and $7.5 billion in water bonds, among other accomplishments.
You can disagree with her politics, but it’s clear that Atkins is someone who knows her way around the Capitol.
She combines that expertise with the kind of hard-working, self-reliant backstory that a calculating political consultant might have whipped up out of thin air.
Atkins grew up in rural Appalachia in a rented house with an outhouse. Her first pair of glasses was a gift from the local Lions Club. She didn’t go to the dentist until she was 24. Her family is too poor.
Yet despite all this, Atkins’ gubernatorial campaign doesn’t even last until 2026, when voters will choose a successor to outgoing Gavin Newsom. She dropped out of the race in September, more than eight months before the primary.
She has no regrets.
“This is a tough decision,” the Democrat said. “But I’m a pragmatic person.”
Atkins said she could not and would not continue to ask “supporters and people to contribute more and more if the results were not what we expected”. “I’d need some sort of moonshot to do that, and I don’t see that.”
She spoke recently via Zoom from her home in San Diego, where Atkins had just returned after spending several weeks in Virginia caring for a dying friend and mentor, one of her former college professors.
“I’m a first-generation college student…a redneck,” Atkins said. She felt like she had no place in the world, “and this professor, Steve Fisher, basically helped me turn things around and not be a victim. Learn to organize. Learn to work with people toward a common goal… He was one of the first people who really helped me understand how to be a part of something bigger than myself.”
During the 22 months of her campaign — from its launch in January 2024 to its abandonment on September 29 — Atkins traveled throughout California from head to toe, holding countless meetings and speaking to countless voters. “It’s one thing to be a lecturer or speaker [Senate leader]”When you’re a candidate, people treat you differently,” she said. You’re calling on them to support you, which is a different conversation. “
What she heard was a lot of practicality.
People lamented the high cost of housing, energy and child care. Rural California residents worry about their diminishing access to health care. Parents and teachers worry about indiscriminate immigration raids and their impact on children. “This is not a political thing,” Atkins said. “It’s just worry [their] Neighbors. “
She hears a lot from business owners, especially defrauded residents from red California, who complain about Sacramento and its seeming disconnect from their lives and livelihoods. “I hear … people in Tehama County say, ‘Look, we care about the environment, but we don’t have electric school buses here. We don’t have any infrastructure.'”
Voters appear to be in two — somewhat conflicting — minds about what they want from the next governor.
First, “there’s going to be people looking at California, California issues and California issues,” Atkins said. “They want the governor to stop being nice and really focus on the issues that California needs help with.”
At the same time, they see the damage that President Trump and his punitive policies have done to the country in a very short period of time, so “they also want to see a warrior.”
The challenge, Atkins suggested, is “convincing people … that you’re absolutely going to fight for California values, and at the same time, you’re going to focus on fixing the roads.”
Maybe California needs to elect a contortionist.
Given Atkins’ vast expertise and compelling background, why did her campaign fail?
Here’s a clue: The word begins with “m” and ends with “y,” saying something harmful about our political system.
“I was hoping that my experience, collaborative nature and ability to work across party lines when needed… would gain traction,” Atkins said. “But I just don’t have the name recognition.”
Or, more relevantly, the huge amount of cash required to build name recognition and get elected to statewide office in California.
While Atkins was a decent fundraiser, she simply couldn’t raise the tens of millions of dollars needed to run a viable gubernatorial campaign.
This could be seen as a referendum of sorts. If enough people want Atkins to serve as governor, she could theoretically raise more cash. But who could doubt that money has a sinister influence on our elections?
(In addition to Kentucky Sen. Mitch McConnell, who has spent much of his career fighting campaign finance reform, there are members of the Supreme Court who gave the green light to unlimited campaign spending today.)
Atkins, 63, isn’t sure what happens next.
“I lost my parents, but it was decades ago,” she said. “I think I’m going to spend the rest of the year reflecting on the loss of Steve” — her beloved former college professor. “I’m definitely going to stay engaged … but I’m going to focus on my family,” at least until January.
Atkins remains optimistic about her adopted home, despite her failed bid for governor and the criticism she heard along the way.
“California is where people dream,” she said. “We’re still capable of big things… We’re the fourth largest economy. We’re a nation-state. We need to remember that.”
Without neglecting the basics.
