Mayor Lurie Attempts to Emulate Bloomberg's Approach in San Francisco
Despite record-low crime rates, many outsiders continue to express skepticism about the city by the bay.
TroibNews 
SAN FRANCISCO — Daniel Lurie started the morning of his inauguration as the city's new mayor last month at a soup kitchen, later strolling with his young family through the challenging Tenderloin district to catch a cable car to Ghirardelli Square, where they could take in one of the world’s most stunning views.
“It’s not too bad,” Lurie commented, gesturing towards Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge. “Sixty degrees in January, snowstorm back east.”
His remarks emphasized the city's enduring appeal despite its issues. I found humor in his enthusiasm even before he officially took office.
That morning resonated not only for its symbol of San Francisco's contradictions but also as a reflection of the challenges facing the new mayor, who recently turned 48. Lurie, known largely for his connection to the Levi Strauss fortune, made headlines by defeating incumbent London Breed in his first attempt at political office last fall. Now, the question remains: can a technocrat reminiscent of Michael Bloomberg—sans the business pedigree—revitalize San Francisco?
Lurie is stepping into a landscape marked by significant challenges. There's the tangible reality of the city’s $900 million deficit, rampant open-air drug use, and homelessness—issues so pressing that one woman at Taylor and Eddy shouted during Lurie's inauguration morning walk, “We need help in this neighborhood!”
Simultaneously, there's the perception problem. The city has often been depicted by conservative voices as a moral downfall, a narrative that intensified in the digital age through the blending of Trump-era radicalism and long-standing liberal leniency.
So, how can Lurie reassure both residents and visitors that San Francisco is on the mend since COVID-19? How can he convince people to return to Union Square hotels for conventions and to resume their five-day workweeks in the office, despite viral videos and friends’ cautionary tales about their experiences in the city?
Is it feasible for Lurie to reshape the image of a tourism-reliant city, shifting public consciousness from the grim realities that plague the downtown area to the picturesque “City by the Bay” that those who know the city well recall?
Lurie is not without resources. Much of San Francisco remains as beautiful as ever; it's challenging to take seriously depictions of the city as a dystopia when enjoying gelato in North Beach’s Washington Square. Business is bustling in the bakeries and coffee shops, with the only street chaos often stemming from confused driverless cars.
The attributes of the city—its views, climate, gastronomy, sports teams, rich history, vibrant arts scene, and innovative spirit—are still appealing. Moreover, there's potential for San Francisco to emerge as a hub for AI technology in this latest tech boom.
One could argue that if Lurie tackles the pressing problems, the city's perception will naturally improve. However, that perspective oversimplifies the complexities of modern information dynamics.
During my conversation with Lurie at his transition office in the imposing War Memorial Building—the first United Nations headquarters—he acknowledged the importance of addressing both the stark reality and the prevailing perceptions but seemed particularly focused on the latter.
“We have our problems, they’re concentrated in a few areas, which is where our tourists come,” he pointed out. “We have to clean that up.”
In his inauguration speech outside City Hall the following day, Lurie introduced the “SFPD Hospitality Zone Task Force,” aimed at fostering a more welcoming and safer environment for visitors and locals around Union Square and Market Street.
On a delightful day when many in attendance shed their outerwear, Lurie spoke about San Francisco’s storied values of inclusiveness and tolerance but made it clear that these values do not justify allowing nearly 8,000 people to experience homelessness in the city.
He added, sending a robust message to both residents and beyond: “You do not come to San Francisco to deal drugs or do drugs on our streets.” He asserted that those who do would be held accountable.
Lurie’s remarks resonated with local residents, including a couple I spoke with, Russell Beck and Vincent Yamasaki, who live in the Ocean Beach area. They expressed shame about the damage the city’s downtown areas have inflicted on its reputation.
“It shames me to drive through the Civic Center and the Tenderloin, and that’s what the tourists see, 6th Street,” Beck reflected, recalling his move to San Francisco in 1967, during the Summer of Love. Yamasaki, sporting a Giants baseball cap adorned with a rainbow-colored SF logo, also lamented the visible homeless presence on Market Street.
In the month since his inauguration, Lurie has declared a Fentanyl State of Emergency and sought to replace the city’s police commissioner. These initiatives, of course, aim for tangible progress toward a cleaner, safer city. On that front, Lurie benefitted from timing—many indicators show San Francisco is rebounding, with BART ridership increasing, offices reopening, and the city reporting its lowest crime rate in two decades.
His striking inauguration rhetoric and policy initiatives are also intended to do what he attempted when he pointed toward the Bay during our conversation, reminding me of the pleasant weather I had left behind: he’s marketing the city.
Lurie presents himself as approachable, exuding a dry sense of humor. When I jokingly asked whether he planned to be a cheerleader for the city, showing up at Golden State Warriors games (mentioning I would be attending a game that night), he turned to an adviser and quipped: “See, I told you I should go to the Warriors game.”
However, he doesn’t possess the larger-than-life persona of some of his predecessors—less Willie Brown or Gavin Newsom, more Bloomberg than Ed Koch in New York.
It was fitting that when asked about which mayors inspired him, Lurie replied, “Bloomberg for me is a big one. How we’re structuring our administration is very much in the vein of how Bloomberg led.”
Having worked with the Robin Hood Foundation in New York during Bloomberg's tenure, Lurie has since spoken with the billionaire about potential collaborations with his philanthropic ventures.
He also praised Dianne Feinstein for her direct and action-oriented approach during her time as mayor.
Lurie's willingness to embrace two centrist figures reflects a significant shift in the Democratic Party’s center of gravity and sends a clear message about his governance style.
When I asked him to describe his politics, he responded: “Common sense. That’s it. Whatever I can do to make San Francisco the greatest city in the world again, I’m going to do. I’ll talk to anybody.” When prompted about being progressive, he stated, “I’m a San Franciscan. People want to label, I don’t even know what that means anymore.” He added, while gesturing out the window overlooking City Hall, “It’s not progressive to see what we’re seeing down here, right, that’s not progressive.”
While asserting that he’s not driven by ideology, he also voiced support for the business community in our discussion and during his inauguration speech, where he expressed sympathy for “suffering” small business owners and vowed to end the era of bureaucratic confusion for new restaurants facing excessive regulations.
The night before, he indicated that he has reached out to “many CEOs around the country,” conveying the message that “San Francisco is open for business.”
Lurie aims to retain tech companies in San Francisco while also attracting employers from outside the region, emphasizing the need to bring talent back into the city rather than letting it migrate toward Silicon Valley.
“The innovators and entrepreneurs, they’re here,” he assured. “There’s no better place when we are functioning well and when the business sector feels like actually government is working to get results instead of working to undermine them and making business harder.”
Regarding the future of AI technology as the new frontier of innovation, Lurie stated, “We’re on the precipice of something massive” but cautioned that “it can go elsewhere.”
He sometimes struggles to balance acknowledging the city’s strengths with addressing its challenges, knowing that focusing solely on the city’s positive attributes could downplay his responsibility in addressing issues. Such is the nature of politics.
Aaron Peskin, a former supervisor and mayoral candidate, reminded me of San Francisco’s history with this dynamic: “[Former Mayor] Frank Jordan busts his ass to clear the way to build a new ballpark for the Giants and by the time it’s opening day there, it’s Willie Brown throwing out the first pitch,” Peskin noted.
Lurie maintains that there are “green shoots” of improvement in the city. However, the current drop in violent crime statistics is a more concrete sign of progress. The previous mayor, Breed, experienced a recall that reflected the city’s backlash against complacency during the COVID-era.
“The city became the recall capital of the world!” joked Brown, referencing the elected officials who faced removal due to public dissatisfaction.
Located at a table in Sam’s Grill, where regular patrons can’t help but acknowledge him, the 90-year-old former mayor stated that Lurie's true challenge lies not in reality but in public perception.
“He’s inheriting a city that’s reputation is far worse off than the city itself,” Brown asserted, a sentiment echoed by many local leaders and residents. Though there is some boosterism, there’s also a shared disdain for the external caricature of San Francisco, a collective eye-roll about how every downturn in its history is treated as a catastrophe.
Longtime resident Josh Koral described the current media portrayal as reminiscent of the aftermath of the 1989 earthquake, noting, “It was the same footage, the same spots in every clip, and people would look at the television and believe that that’s San Francisco.”
I met Koral at a tribute party for Peskin, whose tenure as supervisor ended when he ran for mayor. The line to enter the North Beach nightclub stretched down the block, filled with attendees who were largely AARP-eligible progressives.
While skepticism about Lurie’s candidacy abounds—given his background as a blue-jeans heir from Pacific Heights who has never served in an official capacity—there’s also considerable appeal in his status as a political outsider, free from ties to the city’s decline and its myriad factions.
Yet, he is not entirely a stranger to the local political landscape. As Brown explained, “This isn’t a changing of the guard, just different wings of the family,” referring to Lurie’s ties to one of San Francisco’s prominent families.
Lurie’s mother, Mimi Haas, has been active in the city’s social and political arenas for many years, and his first husband was a rabbi. After her divorce, she married the late Peter Haas, a great-grandnephew of Levi Strauss.
Such connections could have fast-tracked Lurie into public life, yet he remained disengaged until he took on an internship with Nancy Pelosi during his youth. After graduating from Duke University, Lurie spent time working for the Robin Hood Foundation in New York before returning to San Francisco to lead his own philanthropic initiative, Tipping Point.
His initial foray into civic responsibility came when he oversaw preparations for the 2016 Super Bowl, an event that will return to the city next year, marking a critical moment in Lurie’s early mayoral tenure.
Recognizing Breed’s vulnerabilities and the electorate's discontent with the political establishment, Lurie invested significantly in his campaign—using $9 million of his own wealth and an additional million from his mother—to secure victory in San Francisco’s ranked choice voting system.
“The nice guy beat out four very tough competitors,” Lurie explained, anticipating concerns about his affability potentially hindering his effectiveness.
Despite his outsider positioning, he capitalized on local talent to run his campaign, including top strategist Tyler Law and veteran political operatives Brian Brokaw and Dan Newman, who managed the pro-Lurie super PAC.
Lurie deftly engaged with the Asian voting demographic while also garnering endorsements from half-backs like former 49er Ronnie Lott.
Even before officially taking office, he impressed local insiders by helping to resolve a hotel strike through discreet negotiations. He recognized that a significant pillar of the city’s economy needed stability as he began his term.
“Tourism is our number one industry, and it has taken a hit,” Lurie emphasized.
When addressing nonprofits, which can be difficult to manage, Lurie referenced his experience in philanthropy, stating, “I’ve cut more nonprofits than anyone I ran against, anyone that’s been mayor before. I know how to fund high-performing nonprofits, hold them accountable and, if they’re not getting results, cut them.”
While he projects a robust image, he must also navigate the subtleties of San Francisco politics.
When asked if he would collaborate with President Donald Trump, Lurie replied that he’d “work with anybody that wants to turn San Francisco around.” However, he quickly added that he would always prioritize “protecting my city and our residents,” particularly alluding to the rights of migrants living lawfully in the city and the LGBTQ+ community.
Brown advised that Lurie’s approach to Trump should be straightforward: “Whatever Nancy tells him to do.”
Lurie will have considerable support from Pelosi's influence and connections but may face challenges if she retires, as that would leave the city represented by a relatively inexperienced House member, two junior senators from Southern California, and strained relationships with both Trump and Governor Gavin Newsom, who may have presidential aspirations in the coming years.
This contrasts sharply with the advantageous circumstances Brown enjoyed in the 1990s, when he was backed by seasoned political leaders.
Currently, the evolving nature of San Francisco’s economy presents both opportunities and challenges. If Lurie and his deputy, Ned Segal, can retain tech firms in the city and draw new businesses to the region, they would significantly enhance both the reality and the perception of San Francisco.
When I spoke with Lurie the night before his swearing-in, he seemed slightly defensive regarding his wealth, offering a rehearsed line about not being able to walk in someone else’s shoes. However, when I suggested his background could be advantageous in his new role, he readily agreed.
“Yes, I’m absolutely going to call every single person I know to help our city and get business back here,” Lurie confirmed.
And what does success ultimately look like to him?
“It’s really making sure we get San Francisco back to its rightful spot where everybody is like: ‘I gotta be here.’”
Let the campaign for transformation commence.
Olivia Brown for TROIB News
“It’s not too bad,” Lurie commented, gesturing towards Alcatraz and the Golden Gate Bridge. “Sixty degrees in January, snowstorm back east.”
His remarks emphasized the city's enduring appeal despite its issues. I found humor in his enthusiasm even before he officially took office.
That morning resonated not only for its symbol of San Francisco's contradictions but also as a reflection of the challenges facing the new mayor, who recently turned 48. Lurie, known largely for his connection to the Levi Strauss fortune, made headlines by defeating incumbent London Breed in his first attempt at political office last fall. Now, the question remains: can a technocrat reminiscent of Michael Bloomberg—sans the business pedigree—revitalize San Francisco?
Lurie is stepping into a landscape marked by significant challenges. There's the tangible reality of the city’s $900 million deficit, rampant open-air drug use, and homelessness—issues so pressing that one woman at Taylor and Eddy shouted during Lurie's inauguration morning walk, “We need help in this neighborhood!”
Simultaneously, there's the perception problem. The city has often been depicted by conservative voices as a moral downfall, a narrative that intensified in the digital age through the blending of Trump-era radicalism and long-standing liberal leniency.
So, how can Lurie reassure both residents and visitors that San Francisco is on the mend since COVID-19? How can he convince people to return to Union Square hotels for conventions and to resume their five-day workweeks in the office, despite viral videos and friends’ cautionary tales about their experiences in the city?
Is it feasible for Lurie to reshape the image of a tourism-reliant city, shifting public consciousness from the grim realities that plague the downtown area to the picturesque “City by the Bay” that those who know the city well recall?
Lurie is not without resources. Much of San Francisco remains as beautiful as ever; it's challenging to take seriously depictions of the city as a dystopia when enjoying gelato in North Beach’s Washington Square. Business is bustling in the bakeries and coffee shops, with the only street chaos often stemming from confused driverless cars.
The attributes of the city—its views, climate, gastronomy, sports teams, rich history, vibrant arts scene, and innovative spirit—are still appealing. Moreover, there's potential for San Francisco to emerge as a hub for AI technology in this latest tech boom.
One could argue that if Lurie tackles the pressing problems, the city's perception will naturally improve. However, that perspective oversimplifies the complexities of modern information dynamics.
During my conversation with Lurie at his transition office in the imposing War Memorial Building—the first United Nations headquarters—he acknowledged the importance of addressing both the stark reality and the prevailing perceptions but seemed particularly focused on the latter.
“We have our problems, they’re concentrated in a few areas, which is where our tourists come,” he pointed out. “We have to clean that up.”
In his inauguration speech outside City Hall the following day, Lurie introduced the “SFPD Hospitality Zone Task Force,” aimed at fostering a more welcoming and safer environment for visitors and locals around Union Square and Market Street.
On a delightful day when many in attendance shed their outerwear, Lurie spoke about San Francisco’s storied values of inclusiveness and tolerance but made it clear that these values do not justify allowing nearly 8,000 people to experience homelessness in the city.
He added, sending a robust message to both residents and beyond: “You do not come to San Francisco to deal drugs or do drugs on our streets.” He asserted that those who do would be held accountable.
Lurie’s remarks resonated with local residents, including a couple I spoke with, Russell Beck and Vincent Yamasaki, who live in the Ocean Beach area. They expressed shame about the damage the city’s downtown areas have inflicted on its reputation.
“It shames me to drive through the Civic Center and the Tenderloin, and that’s what the tourists see, 6th Street,” Beck reflected, recalling his move to San Francisco in 1967, during the Summer of Love. Yamasaki, sporting a Giants baseball cap adorned with a rainbow-colored SF logo, also lamented the visible homeless presence on Market Street.
In the month since his inauguration, Lurie has declared a Fentanyl State of Emergency and sought to replace the city’s police commissioner. These initiatives, of course, aim for tangible progress toward a cleaner, safer city. On that front, Lurie benefitted from timing—many indicators show San Francisco is rebounding, with BART ridership increasing, offices reopening, and the city reporting its lowest crime rate in two decades.
His striking inauguration rhetoric and policy initiatives are also intended to do what he attempted when he pointed toward the Bay during our conversation, reminding me of the pleasant weather I had left behind: he’s marketing the city.
Lurie presents himself as approachable, exuding a dry sense of humor. When I jokingly asked whether he planned to be a cheerleader for the city, showing up at Golden State Warriors games (mentioning I would be attending a game that night), he turned to an adviser and quipped: “See, I told you I should go to the Warriors game.”
However, he doesn’t possess the larger-than-life persona of some of his predecessors—less Willie Brown or Gavin Newsom, more Bloomberg than Ed Koch in New York.
It was fitting that when asked about which mayors inspired him, Lurie replied, “Bloomberg for me is a big one. How we’re structuring our administration is very much in the vein of how Bloomberg led.”
Having worked with the Robin Hood Foundation in New York during Bloomberg's tenure, Lurie has since spoken with the billionaire about potential collaborations with his philanthropic ventures.
He also praised Dianne Feinstein for her direct and action-oriented approach during her time as mayor.
Lurie's willingness to embrace two centrist figures reflects a significant shift in the Democratic Party’s center of gravity and sends a clear message about his governance style.
When I asked him to describe his politics, he responded: “Common sense. That’s it. Whatever I can do to make San Francisco the greatest city in the world again, I’m going to do. I’ll talk to anybody.” When prompted about being progressive, he stated, “I’m a San Franciscan. People want to label, I don’t even know what that means anymore.” He added, while gesturing out the window overlooking City Hall, “It’s not progressive to see what we’re seeing down here, right, that’s not progressive.”
While asserting that he’s not driven by ideology, he also voiced support for the business community in our discussion and during his inauguration speech, where he expressed sympathy for “suffering” small business owners and vowed to end the era of bureaucratic confusion for new restaurants facing excessive regulations.
The night before, he indicated that he has reached out to “many CEOs around the country,” conveying the message that “San Francisco is open for business.”
Lurie aims to retain tech companies in San Francisco while also attracting employers from outside the region, emphasizing the need to bring talent back into the city rather than letting it migrate toward Silicon Valley.
“The innovators and entrepreneurs, they’re here,” he assured. “There’s no better place when we are functioning well and when the business sector feels like actually government is working to get results instead of working to undermine them and making business harder.”
Regarding the future of AI technology as the new frontier of innovation, Lurie stated, “We’re on the precipice of something massive” but cautioned that “it can go elsewhere.”
He sometimes struggles to balance acknowledging the city’s strengths with addressing its challenges, knowing that focusing solely on the city’s positive attributes could downplay his responsibility in addressing issues. Such is the nature of politics.
Aaron Peskin, a former supervisor and mayoral candidate, reminded me of San Francisco’s history with this dynamic: “[Former Mayor] Frank Jordan busts his ass to clear the way to build a new ballpark for the Giants and by the time it’s opening day there, it’s Willie Brown throwing out the first pitch,” Peskin noted.
Lurie maintains that there are “green shoots” of improvement in the city. However, the current drop in violent crime statistics is a more concrete sign of progress. The previous mayor, Breed, experienced a recall that reflected the city’s backlash against complacency during the COVID-era.
“The city became the recall capital of the world!” joked Brown, referencing the elected officials who faced removal due to public dissatisfaction.
Located at a table in Sam’s Grill, where regular patrons can’t help but acknowledge him, the 90-year-old former mayor stated that Lurie's true challenge lies not in reality but in public perception.
“He’s inheriting a city that’s reputation is far worse off than the city itself,” Brown asserted, a sentiment echoed by many local leaders and residents. Though there is some boosterism, there’s also a shared disdain for the external caricature of San Francisco, a collective eye-roll about how every downturn in its history is treated as a catastrophe.
Longtime resident Josh Koral described the current media portrayal as reminiscent of the aftermath of the 1989 earthquake, noting, “It was the same footage, the same spots in every clip, and people would look at the television and believe that that’s San Francisco.”
I met Koral at a tribute party for Peskin, whose tenure as supervisor ended when he ran for mayor. The line to enter the North Beach nightclub stretched down the block, filled with attendees who were largely AARP-eligible progressives.
While skepticism about Lurie’s candidacy abounds—given his background as a blue-jeans heir from Pacific Heights who has never served in an official capacity—there’s also considerable appeal in his status as a political outsider, free from ties to the city’s decline and its myriad factions.
Yet, he is not entirely a stranger to the local political landscape. As Brown explained, “This isn’t a changing of the guard, just different wings of the family,” referring to Lurie’s ties to one of San Francisco’s prominent families.
Lurie’s mother, Mimi Haas, has been active in the city’s social and political arenas for many years, and his first husband was a rabbi. After her divorce, she married the late Peter Haas, a great-grandnephew of Levi Strauss.
Such connections could have fast-tracked Lurie into public life, yet he remained disengaged until he took on an internship with Nancy Pelosi during his youth. After graduating from Duke University, Lurie spent time working for the Robin Hood Foundation in New York before returning to San Francisco to lead his own philanthropic initiative, Tipping Point.
His initial foray into civic responsibility came when he oversaw preparations for the 2016 Super Bowl, an event that will return to the city next year, marking a critical moment in Lurie’s early mayoral tenure.
Recognizing Breed’s vulnerabilities and the electorate's discontent with the political establishment, Lurie invested significantly in his campaign—using $9 million of his own wealth and an additional million from his mother—to secure victory in San Francisco’s ranked choice voting system.
“The nice guy beat out four very tough competitors,” Lurie explained, anticipating concerns about his affability potentially hindering his effectiveness.
Despite his outsider positioning, he capitalized on local talent to run his campaign, including top strategist Tyler Law and veteran political operatives Brian Brokaw and Dan Newman, who managed the pro-Lurie super PAC.
Lurie deftly engaged with the Asian voting demographic while also garnering endorsements from half-backs like former 49er Ronnie Lott.
Even before officially taking office, he impressed local insiders by helping to resolve a hotel strike through discreet negotiations. He recognized that a significant pillar of the city’s economy needed stability as he began his term.
“Tourism is our number one industry, and it has taken a hit,” Lurie emphasized.
When addressing nonprofits, which can be difficult to manage, Lurie referenced his experience in philanthropy, stating, “I’ve cut more nonprofits than anyone I ran against, anyone that’s been mayor before. I know how to fund high-performing nonprofits, hold them accountable and, if they’re not getting results, cut them.”
While he projects a robust image, he must also navigate the subtleties of San Francisco politics.
When asked if he would collaborate with President Donald Trump, Lurie replied that he’d “work with anybody that wants to turn San Francisco around.” However, he quickly added that he would always prioritize “protecting my city and our residents,” particularly alluding to the rights of migrants living lawfully in the city and the LGBTQ+ community.
Brown advised that Lurie’s approach to Trump should be straightforward: “Whatever Nancy tells him to do.”
Lurie will have considerable support from Pelosi's influence and connections but may face challenges if she retires, as that would leave the city represented by a relatively inexperienced House member, two junior senators from Southern California, and strained relationships with both Trump and Governor Gavin Newsom, who may have presidential aspirations in the coming years.
This contrasts sharply with the advantageous circumstances Brown enjoyed in the 1990s, when he was backed by seasoned political leaders.
Currently, the evolving nature of San Francisco’s economy presents both opportunities and challenges. If Lurie and his deputy, Ned Segal, can retain tech firms in the city and draw new businesses to the region, they would significantly enhance both the reality and the perception of San Francisco.
When I spoke with Lurie the night before his swearing-in, he seemed slightly defensive regarding his wealth, offering a rehearsed line about not being able to walk in someone else’s shoes. However, when I suggested his background could be advantageous in his new role, he readily agreed.
“Yes, I’m absolutely going to call every single person I know to help our city and get business back here,” Lurie confirmed.
And what does success ultimately look like to him?
“It’s really making sure we get San Francisco back to its rightful spot where everybody is like: ‘I gotta be here.’”
Let the campaign for transformation commence.
Olivia Brown for TROIB News
