‘The vibe shift is’ real. San Francisco Mayor Daniel Lurie becomes his hometown’s hype man

SAN FRANCISCO — When Daniel Lurie won election in November as San Francisco’s new mayor, he knew there were daunting challenges ahead: the twin epidemics of homelessness and addiction; a deflated downtown economy; the general sense among locals that a malaise had clouded their colorful city.

Five months later — 100 days into Lurie’s tenure — it’s not as if any of those problems have gone away. And yet, “I love my job,” said Lurie, 48, during a recent interview in his stately City Hall office.

“People say, ‘What are the surprises?’ I think I’m surprised by just how much I love this job.”

As an heir to the Levi Strauss family fortune, Lurie comes from one of the city’s most prominent families, with roots dating to the Gold Rush. So, it’s no surprise he feels a deep connection to his city. But his decision to use the mayoral post to not only set policy but also boldly hype San Francisco is part of a broader strategy. He wants the nation to see a city on the rise. And maybe even more important: for San Franciscans to embrace the image.

“The vibe shift is, I believe, real in our city,” he said. “There’s a sense of hope and optimism that people haven’t seen for a long time. I have a lot of people saying, ‘I’m proud to be a San Franciscan for the first time in a while.’ Now, I’ve always been proud. That’s why I ran.”

Lurie, a moderate Democrat, bested incumbent London Breed and three other City Hall veterans by appealing to voters disillusioned with sprawling homelessness and the city’s stalled post-COVID recovery. He came to the job with no experience as an elected official. His work life centered on Tipping Point, a Bay Area nonprofit he founded in 2005 that has raised more than $400 million for initiatives focused on job training, housing and early childhood education for low-income families.

Even many of his supporters expected Lurie, with his starched shirts and monotone voice, to approach the new job as more of a public policy nerd than a cheerleader-in-chief. But, for now, he’s effectively embraced both roles. One day he’s unveiling plans to get tough on public drug use; the next, he’s across town throwing the first pitch at the Giants’ opening day at Oracle Park. He often uses his Instagram to highlight both the serious and more fun parts of his job.

Lurie knows he’s got a long road ahead as far as making the changes he promised voters: dismantling the tent cities; expanding shelter options; reinvigorating the business sector; making the city decidedly unfriendly to drug dealers. But what rankles him is not so much the scope of the agenda. It’s the bureaucracy he sees as standing in his way.

“In the first few weeks, I would be walking on the streets and be like, why is there trash at a bus shelter?,” Lurie said, recounting one such example. “Well, we don’t do trash pickup on Saturdays and Sundays. And I was like, people still take the bus on Saturdays and Sundays, and we have tourists from all over the world coming here.”

“We have to be a 24/7 city, and often we are a city that is 9 to 5, Monday through Friday,” he said.

Lurie, dad to two school-aged children, is also learning how to mesh being a 24/7 mayor with a rich and supportive family life. He often references as a role model the late Sen. Dianne Feinstein, who served as San Francisco’s mayor from 1978-88. Like Feinstein, Lurie wants to be a hands-on mayor, walking city streets by day, while at least every so often making it home early enough to sit down with his family for dinner.

He posits, with a smile, that he may actually have the lightest schedule in the family. His wife, Becca Prowda, is a high-ranking aide to Gov. Gavin Newsom, serving as Newsom’s chief of protocol. His son, 11-year-old Sawyer, plays baseball, soccer and flag football. Lurie’s daughter, 14-year-old Taya, recently performed in the San Francisco Ballet’s rendition of “Frankenstein.”

“She was the first person onstage,” Lurie said with the smile of a very proud dad. “She has a moment where she is dancing onstage with and standing next to Sasha (DeSola),” a principal dancer with the company.

Lurie still takes his kids to school every morning, he said, and aims to get home by 9 p.m. most nights, while reserving Friday and Sunday evenings for family. He spent Passover weekend with his family in Southern California.

On the campaign trail, Lurie said his kids’ experience of San Francisco inspired him to run for mayor, recounting a story about walking with them through the Mission District and encountering a man in the midst of a mental health crisis. Lurie pledged to prioritize public safety and increase pathways to treatment for mental illness and addiction.

Soon after his Jan. 8 inauguration, Lurie introduced an ordinance that allows the city to more quickly open new shelter and treatment programs while giving his office leeway to pursue private funding for those efforts. This month, he announced a new public health policy that prohibits city staff and nonprofits that receive city funding from handing out sterile syringes and other clean drug supplies unless they actively work to connect people with services.

Lurie has tapped a handful of elite tech and business executives to act as advisors and help shape policies that will revitalize a downtown hit hard by the COVID-era shutdowns and the exodus of tech workers who embraced remote work. Among the people he’s recruited: Laurene Powell Jobs, the billionaire businesswoman, philanthropist and widow of Steve Jobs; Ruth Porat, president and chief investment officer of Alphabet and Google; OpenAI CEO Sam Altman; Larry Baer of the San Francisco Giants; venture capitalist Ron Conway; and the executives of DoorDash, Gap, Ripple, Salesforce and Visa.

Their brain power — and money — will be a powerful tool in helping jolt San Francisco’s downtown back to life, Lurie said.

“I’m going to work with anybody that wants to help San Francisco get back to its rightful place as the greatest city in the world,” he said.

Lurie’s performance has drawn accolades from unexpected political corners.

“I think Mayor Lurie is doing fantastic,” said state Sen. Scott Wiener (D-San Francisco), a Breed ally who expressed excitement at Lurie’s housing policies and support for public transit.

“I enjoy him personally. I enjoy his approach,” said Supervisor Rafael Mandelman, the new president of the Board of Supervisors, the city’s powerful legislative arm, which for years was dominated by ultra-liberals who often clashed with previous mayors. The November elections brought more centrist members to the 11-member body who may be more inclined to support Lurie’s centrist agenda.

“He’s willing to really learn, and he’s willing to listen,” said Supervisor Connie Chan, a progressive. “And it’s not just symbolic listening. He’s actively listening.”

Even former longtime Supervisor Aaron Peskin, an old-school liberal who lost to Lurie in last year’s mayoral race, said he accepted a recent invitation from Lurie to take a walk and talk shop. Peskin said he appreciates that the new mayor is willing to listen to different opinions.

“San Francisco needed to have a change, both for national perception and for local perception,” Peskin said.

Plenty of unpopular decisions loom. Chief among them is a gaping budget deficit nearing $1 billion, a number that will almost certainly require sweeping cuts and tough negotiations with the Board of Supervisors and the city’s public labor unions.

Lurie has already gotten pushback from some prominent community groups concerned that his new policies will ignite a repeat of the nation’s failed war on drugs, as well as those skeptical of his tight connections with tech leaders.

“We’ve had a pay-to-play atmosphere at City Hall,” said Julie Pitta, president of the Phoenix Project, a progressive group that tracks tech money in San Francisco politics. “Does Mayor Lurie think these people will not want something in return for the help they are giving him?”

For now at least, Lurie is taking both the accolades and criticism in stride. He’s already alluded to a reelection campaign, saying it might take more time to reestablish his hometown as a city where every tourist wants to visit and every business wants to open shop.

“I think we’re off to a strong start,” Lurie said. “But my expectations are sky-high.”