John Burton, one of the most influential figures in California politics for decades, who gained a reputation as a straight talker from his zestful use of profanity and his openhearted discussion of overcoming drug addiction, died on Sunday at a hospice facility in San Francisco. He was 92.
His family announced the death. His health had deteriorated after a fall about two weeks ago.
Mr. Burton was considered a leader of a political machine that dominated California politics, along with his brother Phillip, who, like John, served in the House of Representatives; Phillip’s widow, Sala, who succeeded Phillip in the House; and Willie Brown, a former San Francisco mayor.
Among the state leaders this group picked or mentored were Nancy Pelosi, the former speaker of the House; Barbara Boxer, the former U.S. senator; Kamala Harris, the former senator, vice president and presidential candidate; and Gavin Newsom, the current governor.
Mr. Burton served in the California State Assembly in the 1960s and ’70s, and he briefly chaired the state’s Democratic Party. He served four terms in Congress but chose not to seek a fifth in 1982, citing depression and dependence on crack cocaine and nitrous oxide.
In 1988, more than 20 years after he was first elected, he returned to the State Assembly. In 1996, he moved to the State Senate, where he would serve as president pro tempore for eight years. He then retook another old job, serving as state party chairman from 2009 to 2017.
With expertise in legislative legerdemain, a disposition to take pleasure in political negotiating, and a rhetorical style that suggested liberal commitments were matters of basic respect and compassion, Mr. Burton helped solidify California as a Democratic base.
In his memoir, “I Yell Because I Care: The Passion and Politics of John Burton, California’s Liberal Warrior” — which was published on Thursday — he wrote that he was proudest of writing bills that helped farmworkers unionize, provided special education to autistic children and raised benefits for the poor.
A sense of his political style may be gleaned from his response to opponents of a law he drafted in 2012 that banned foie gras statewide.
“Why don’t you tell those chefs to have a duck cram a lot of food down their gullets and see how they like it?” he asked The New York Times that year.
He wore his gray hair shaggy and favored guayabera shirts. He was not above insulting the height of a sitting governor. His office wall held a framed jock strap embroidered with the words “I am a Burton supporter.”
In 1998, after he was elected Senate president pro tempore, Todd S. Purdum of The Times reported, “Old Capitol hands greeted word of his elevation with roughly the wonder that would attend the appointment of Hunter S. Thompson as dean of the Columbia journalism school.”
John Lowell Burton was born on Dec. 15, 1932, in Cincinnati. His father, Thomas, was a traveling salesman who began attending medical school at age 36. He moved the family to San Francisco in 1941, when he started a new career as a doctor. He often treated poor clients free of charge. John’s mother, Mildred (Leonard) Burton, was a fund-raiser for the Catholic Church who later became a legal secretary.
In 1954, John earned a bachelor’s degree from San Francisco State University, where he studied social sciences and, as a senior, was the starting point guard on the basketball team. That same year, he volunteered for service in the Army. He was stationed in Vienna until being discharged in 1956.
His memories of Vienna consisted in no small part of visiting the Soviet zone, home of the local red-light district. Afterward, he moved back to San Francisco, where he attended law school at the University of San Francisco while also working as a bookie and tending bar at Bimbo’s 365, a beloved nightclub and music venue.
“I ran with strippers, club owners, Beatniks, hustlers, gamblers, entertainers, and other assorted characters,” he wrote in his memoir. “You can learn a lot about people in those circles.”
He also became involved in local politics. His brother Phillip was elected to the State Assembly in 1956 and began a steep ascent in local and national Democratic politics. In 1976, Phillip lost a vote for majority leader of the U.S. House by a single vote. In the early 1980s, he led an effort to redraw the state’s congressional districts that resulted in a map so jagged that he described it as “my contribution to modern art.”
The aim was, in part, to help John win re-election. But he wound up choosing to step down.
A casual drug user for many years, Mr. Burton wrote in his memoir that, after the assassination in 1978 of his close friend George Moscone, the mayor of San Francisco, his substance abuse “went bang-zoom.”
In some ways, little changed. Being disheveled, he wrote in his memoir, “was like my normal look.” He was said to “rant” on the House floor. “But hell,” he wrote, “I’d been ranting on legislative floors as long as I’d been an officeholder.”
A bigger problem was that he began missing work. By 1982, his absenteeism on votes had soared to 75 percent. In addition to freebasing cocaine, he was also spending days on end alone in his home huffing gas.
He realized he was miserable in Washington. He quit the House, moved back to San Francisco, entered rehab, stayed sober and began working as a lawyer.
His early achievements in local politics had included the only successful override of a veto during Ronald Reagan’s governorship, regarding a bill that kept state mental hospitals open. But it was during his second run in local politics that he gained by far his greatest prominence.
Phillip Burton died of a stroke in 1983 while a congressman. Sala Burton, his widow, also died in office, in 1987. John became the campaign chairman of her successor — Ms. Pelosi.
He worked effectively with Republicans. Ross Johnson was a staunchly conservative member of the California Legislature, but he sang “Big Rock Candy Mountain” with Mr. Burton on the floor of the State Senate. Arnold Schwarzenegger was warned before becoming governor that “the life of a movie star does not prepare you to sit in a room and go head-to-head with John Burton,” The Times wrote in 2003. But by the next year, the paper was reporting that the actor and the “crusty, very liberal State Senate leader” were yukking it up over cigars in a courtyard tent outside Mr. Schwarzenegger’s office.
“Arnold’s a negotiator,” Mr. Burton said in praise of the governor.
During his second tenure as state party chairman, from 2009 to 2017, Democrats cemented dominance over California’s legislative chambers and major offices.
Mr. Burton’s reputation was dinged in 2008, when the executive director of a foundation he had established, the John Burton Foundation for Children Without Homes, accused him of sexual harassment in a lawsuit. The case was settled out of court.
Female reporters in California laughed knowingly among themselves about the advantages of wearing a skirt around Mr. Burton — but no other serious allegations came to light.
In his memoir, Mr. Burton spoke of his success in bolstering the careers of powerful women and expressed his support for “our evolution toward a more gender-balanced culture.”
His two marriages, to Michele Hall and Sharon Bain, ended in divorce. He is survived by his daughter, Kimiko Burton, from his first marriage, and two grandchildren.
This year, The Times asked Mr. Burton whether he thought the leaders of the Democrats were too old.
“Jesus, don’t call me an elder statesman,” Mr. Burton, 92, shot back. “I’ve never heard that used to describe me.”
Shawn Hubler, Laurel Rosenhall and Kevin Yamamura contributed reporting.
Alex Traub is a reporter for The Times who writes obituaries.
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