But in this extremely fluid political climate, the front-runner for now is still Hahn, the scion of the city's most famous political family. Hahn's father, Kenny, represented the largely African-American neighborhoods of South Los Angeles on the County Board of Supervisors for four decades. Mere mention of the name Hahn is golden in the city's black neighborhoods, and his 20 years as city attorney and controller have given him a name identification other candidates are still struggling to build.

The April 10 election could serve as a marker of the vast changes over the past eight years -- some demographic, some political, some economic -- that have created tectonic shifts in the city's political landscape since 1993. That was the year Riordan, a Republican businessman who had never held elected office, became mayor of this solidly Democratic city.

In the eight years since Riordan was elected, a boom in high tech and entertainment jobs has replaced defense-driven industry as the city's major economic engine. Meanwhile, the voice of local neighborhoods has grown louder as secessionist movements in the San Fernando Valley, Hollywood and the South Bay continue to gain momentum. Police conduct continues to be a key issue, but the dynamics are very different than they were eight years ago, in the wake of the Rodney King riots. In 1993, police misconduct was at the top of the list of issues for black voters. Now, the city has a black police chief, Bernard Parks. While several candidates are calling for Parks' ouster, in the wake of the Rampart scandal and other abuses, Hahn, the candidate most ardently courting the black vote, is the chief's staunchest defender.

There have also been significant increases in both Latino and Democratic voter registration, and organized labor has reemerged as a potent political force in the city. Indeed, this race is at least partly a referendum on the power of labor, and whether it truly has come back from the collapse of the city's Democratic Party-labor coalition in 1993, which led to Riordan's victory over former City Councilman Michael Woo.

Labor wants the election to be a referendum on its resurgence in L.A. A reinvigorated, politically savvy labor movement has been given partial credit for a number of recent Democratic victories in Los Angeles, including Rep. Adam Schiff's victory over incumbent Jim Rogan last November. But some say labor's power in the city has been overblown. "They're extraordinarily powerful in the Latino areas of L.A.," said Republican political strategist Allan Hoffenblum, who is backing Soboroff. "I doubt if they had much to do with Adam Schiff. That district went 55 percent for Gore/Nader," he says. "Labor is powerful where the Latino vote is significant. Outside of that their power is money."

Certainly in the Rogan race, demographic shifts had at least as much to do with the former impeachment manager's defeat as did a push by big labor. And the unions suffered a humiliating defeat in a recent City Council race, when moderate Nick Pacheco defeated a labor-backed candidate in East Los Angeles in 1999, in an area which has been ground zero for the new labor push. So while labor has been willing to deliver hefty political contributions, precinct walkers and people to get out the vote on Election Day, this race stands as a true test of its political clout in Los Angeles.

Villaraigosa's close ties to labor have alienated many moderates in the Latino community. Pacheco has endorsed Becerra's mayoral bid, while centrist Democrat Alex Padilla is backing Hahn. So if Villaraigosa is truly trying to assemble a new "ethnic" coalition in Los Angeles like the old Tom Bradley coalition that dominated city politics for 20 years, he will have to reach wider than Bradley did.

The Bradley coalition was rooted in the civil rights movement of the '50s and '60s, made up of blacks and Westside liberals and Jews. During Bradley's four terms as mayor, he consistently polled more than 90 percent of African-American voters, who accounted for 25 percent of the city's voters. As black political power has receded, their percentage of the overall vote has fallen, down to 13 percent of the vote in 1997, and probably lower today. Latinos are expected to make up about 22 percent of all voters on April 10.

One of the central ironies in the race is that Villaraigosa probably wouldn't have a prayer if it weren't for federal welfare reform and former Republican Gov. Pete Wilson. Wilson's 1994 reelection bid featured a strong anti-immigrant subtext, coupled with his endorsement of Proposition 187. The backlash led to a massive naturalization and voter registration push among Latinos, which spiked upward again after President Clinton signed welfare reform legislation in 1996 that prohibited many legal immigrants from receiving social benefits.

Overwhelmingly, those new Latino voters registered as Democrats. Other groups including labor unions and the Southwest Voter Foundation have also targeted those new voters, registering thousands of new Democrats in Los Angeles over the last six years, Ludlow said.

But as a group, Latinos have proven they are not as likely to vote for one of their own as blacks. When asked about the electoral equation that would carry Villaraigosa to the mayor's office, Ludlow sketched out the targets in a hypothetical matchup with Hahn, and said Villaraigosa could not rely on the kind of support within the Latino community that Bradley received from blacks. "It's going to take 70 percent of the Latino vote, 20-25 percent of the black vote, and 40 percent of everything else," Ludlow said.

Ultimately, Villaraigosa's political fate may depend on Xavier Becerra. The six-term congressman is currently running strongly in the Latino community with 30 percent of the vote, compared to Hahn and Villaraigosa's 19 percent, according to the most recent L.A. Times poll. Most think that the bulk of the Becerra vote would go to Villaraigosa in a runoff, and vice-versa. That led some of the city's Latino leaders, including County Supervisor Gloria Molina, to try to broker a deal where either Villaraigosa or Becerra would step aside. Former HUD Secretary Henry Cisneros reportedly also brokered such a meeting. One scenario had Villaraigosa dropping out of the race. In return, Becerra would give up his congressional seat for Villaraigosa next year. But Becerra wouldn't bite.

"I'm not interested in cutting some backroom deal," he says.

Becerra is something of a wonk. Knowledgeable and approachable, he has been depicted by the local media as a "Boy Scout." His campaign stands in contrast to the bad-boy edge of Villaraigosa's, but it also lacks the dynamism. On a hazy, muggy Sunday afternoon, hundreds of people are gathered at Ritchie Valens Recreation Center in Pacoima. Most are inside the rec center celebrating the late, local rocker's induction into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, but about 30 people have gathered outside to hear Becerra speak.

This is one of more than 60 gatherings that Becerra calls "neighborhood meetings" he has held across the city, reinforcing his campaign theme to put "neighborhoods first."

Becerra suffered a major setback last week when Molina, a longtime political ally of Becerra's, came out in support of Villaraigosa. "What [Villaraigosa] has been able to put together speaks mightily about his ability to bring this city together," Molina told the L.A. Times.

As Villaraigosa picks up steam, Becerra's support seems to be lagging. But Becerra warns he should not be written off. "I've been underestimated before, and I've always surprised people," he says, pointing to his undefeated record in elections.

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