Billionaire California governor candidate Tom Steyer funneled $310,000 to Jane Fonda's political action committee before the Hollywood activist cut a campaign ad praising him and rallied at his side, a pattern of money flowing to endorsers that has dogged Steyer since his failed 2020 presidential bid, federal campaign filings reveal.
Steyer kicked in $260,000 to the Jane Fonda Climate PAC between March and May 2024. The PAC had already cashed a $50,000 check from Steyer in 2022, and his wife Kat Taylor added another $30,000 in 2023 and 2024. The combined total: $340,000 from the Steyer household to a PAC that would go on to endorse him for governor.
On May 7, Fonda stood beside Steyer at a Los Angeles campaign event. She had already appeared in a campaign ad published April 21, telling voters: "Progressives like me trust Tom." The self-styled populist billionaire, who made more than $2 billion running hedge fund Farallon Capital, is now pouring $130 million into a gubernatorial campaign where endorsements keep arriving from people and organizations he has paid.
Fonda's PAC defended the endorsement by email, saying it backed Steyer "solely because he is ready and willing to stand up to the fossil fuel industry and fight for a livable future." The PAC added that Steyer "has a long record of climate advocacy" and "is unequivocal in his support for transitioning away from fossil fuels."
Maybe so. But the timeline tells its own story. The money came first. The endorsement came second. And the ad and the rally came third.
Fonda is not the only endorser who received Steyer money before lending her name to his campaign. Former California Controller Betty Yee endorsed Steyer after dropping her own gubernatorial bid last month. Campaign filings show Steyer and Taylor had contributed a combined $27,700 to Yee's 2014 and 2018 campaigns for state controller.
Former California state senator Toni Atkins followed the same path. She dropped her bid for governor, endorsed Steyer, and filings show she had received $9,200 from the billionaire in 2016 and 2022. Silicon Valley Rep. Ro Khanna endorsed Steyer's gubernatorial bid, and in May, Taylor gave $7,000 to Khanna's congressional campaign.
In each case, Steyer's campaign insists the endorsements are about policy, not money. Campaign spokesperson Kevin Liao said in an email:
"Every single endorsement Tom has earned is because he is on the right side of the issues, making polluters pay, pushing single payer, and building affordable homes. While his opponents offer platitudes and take checks from big corporations, Tom is putting forward a vision that addresses Californians who can't afford to live in California anymore."
The claim would land harder if the financial trail did not so consistently lead from Steyer's checkbook to his endorsers' bank accounts.
The Fonda payments are only one part of a broader controversy. Steyer's campaign has also paid social media influencers to promote his candidacy online, a strategy now under investigation by the California Fair Political Practices Commission. Campaign filings show payments to multiple creators, including $100,000 to Uruguayan American activist Carlos Eduardo Espina, who described his work as "advising," per the New York Times, and $10,000 to influencer Isaiah Washington, who later deleted his account entirely.
Critics allege some of the paid promotional posts were never properly disclosed as campaign-sponsored content. A complaint filed with the FPPC argues voters had no way of knowing they were watching paid political advertising. Jose Torres said in a post Saturday: "Voters deserve to know when they're watching campaign funded content."
Beatrice Gomberg put it more directly on Instagram: "I just want Steyer like everyone else to follow the law. This is literally just about disclosure."
Liao defended the influencer payments as standard practice, saying creators "deserve to be fairly compensated for their work, just like any other professional." He added that "unlike other campaigns, we're fully transparent: every payment we make is publicly disclosed, as required by California law."
That claim of transparency sits uncomfortably next to the FPPC probe and the deleted accounts. If every payment was disclosed and above board, it is fair to ask why the state's campaign-finance watchdog felt the need to open an investigation.
None of this is new territory for Steyer. During his 2020 presidential campaign, a top aide reportedly offered campaign contributions to Iowa politicians in exchange for endorsements. Former Iowa state senator Tom Courtney told the Associated Press how the pitch worked:
"It was presented more as, he has provided financial support to other downballot candidates who've endorsed him, and could do the same for you."
That episode drew sharp criticism at the time. Joe Biden's campaign accused Steyer of paying Black lawmakers or their companies in exchange for endorsements during that same cycle, per the New York Times as cited in the reporting. Steyer's 2020 bid collapsed. But the playbook, it appears, survived.
California's Democratic primary has no shortage of dysfunction. Xavier Becerra, the current Democratic frontrunner, has faced his own uncomfortable questions during the campaign. Republican Steve Hilton also leads Steyer in recent polls. The billionaire is spending at a pace few candidates can match, yet the money has not bought him a lead, only a growing list of questions about how he uses it.
The California governor's race has already been shaped by scandal. Eric Swalwell's resignation amid misconduct allegations opened a special election and rattled the state's Democratic establishment.
And the broader pattern of Democratic figures facing accountability problems in California extends beyond any single race. A billionaire Democratic donor was recently arrested after breaking with the party over the Swalwell matter, a reminder that money and political loyalty in the Golden State do not always mix cleanly.
Steyer's defenders will point out that campaign contributions are legal, PAC donations are legal, and paying influencers is legal as long as it is properly disclosed. All true. But legality and integrity are not the same thing.
A candidate who pays an activist $310,000 and then features her endorsement in a campaign ad is not breaking the law. He is, however, asking voters to treat a paid relationship as an organic expression of political support. When that same candidate has a documented history of financial ties to nearly every major endorser on his list, and when an earlier campaign drew accusations of trading cash for endorsements, the pattern speaks for itself.
Steyer built his fortune at Farallon Capital. He knows how money works. He knows what incentives it creates. And he knows that a $260,000 payment to a PAC followed by a glowing campaign ad from the PAC's namesake will raise questions that no spokesperson email can fully answer.
The FPPC investigation into the influencer payments could add a regulatory dimension to a controversy that so far has played out in filings and press reports. Whether the commission finds violations or not, the underlying issue is the same: voters in California are being asked to trust endorsements and social media content that were preceded by large sums of money from the candidate himself.
Steyer's campaign calls this transparency. His critics call it something closer to purchasing influence. The filings are public. The timeline is clear. Voters can decide what to call it.
When a billionaire's endorsement list reads like a list of his beneficiaries, the word "grassroots" starts to sound like a punchline.
